


His Magister

by Pastellorama



Series: Broken Circles, Mended Hearts [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fingering, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Gay Sex, Hickeys, Kissing, Multi, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Slavery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suffering to come, divergence from canon, handjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-10-02 04:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastellorama/pseuds/Pastellorama
Summary: The threat of Corypheus is gone, but in its place a new threat rises; Aldred struggles to understand his role in its defeat and his place in the world after Corypheus' defeat.~*~ On Hiatus ~*~





	1. Nobody Once More

“I... I can't believe it. I'm seeing it, but I still just... _wow_ ,” Dorian breathed as Aldred undressed before him. It was no flirtatious comment upon Aldred's figure, however, but rather a remark on his newly absent left forearm and the fact that Aldred no longer bore the anchor—the mark that had made him, in the eyes of many, the Herald of Andraste.

“It's not... it's not too awful, is it?” Aldred asked as he raised his arm and tried to see what he could of its end. It was impossible. He may well have been attempting to lick his own elbow at that point, so instead he turned to face the mirror in Dorian's quarters and observe his 'injury'. His arm stopped just before the elbow now, ending in a rounded stump that featured a thick band of scarring across it. 

It was not the only changed thing about him. 

Aldred had looked outlandish to those he passed on his way into Minrathous, and entirely unrecognizable to them as well. A full beard had grown in during his travels, the decorative paint he so often used to adorn his face with smearing and smudging away until only the faintest of blue could be seen tinting his skin from where he had worn it for years. His hair was shaggy and terribly tangled, and the one thing that could ever have given him away had been taken from him.

And so it was that he appeared in Tevinter on a warm day looking every bit a beggar of a man, remaining hand gripping a staff that had become more a walking stick than a weapon and wearing boots that had broken at the toes. He was used to hearing conversations drop to hushed whispers in his presence, though the last two years they had all been whispers of awe at his presence. This time, voices had dipped low as he passed, hands hiding mouths that smirked or scowled while little biting comments flew and buzzed regarding his appearance like an infestation of gnats upon Lake Calenhad.

He had hardly noticed—his thoughts had been too preoccupied by what lay at the end of his journey.

“Dagna did a good job, right?” Aldred asked, moving away from the mirror in time to catch how Dorian's brows twisted in concern for him.

“Of course, she did excellent,” Dorian assured him, stepping towards Aldred to observe the point of amputation a little closer. “But, how do you feel?”

“Well, it doesn't hurt... it's a little odd. Sometimes I think its still there, and one morning I made the mistake of trying to lean on a desk with my left hand. I managed to bang my shoulder rather nicely as a result,” Aldred confessed, tugging his jacket back on now and fussing with the sleeve. He wasn't sure still how he wanted to go about mending his clothes to adapt to this new... shape.

“I suppose it is good you're no longer in pain,” Dorian said stiffly, and Aldred knew he had missed Dorian's intended meaning.

Smiling grimly, he wrapped his remaining arm around Dorian's waist and pulled him close. “I'm bitter, of course. Ours is a world of betrayal.”

“Do go on,” Dorian encouraged, leading Aldred towards a wide chair that rested comfortably before an unlit hearth. At Dorian's behest, it was lit and the room instantly felt a little more comfortable. Aldred had always thought his quarters at Skyhold to be something of a grand nature, but it was nothing in comparison to Dorian's home in Minrathous.

Everything was exquisite, laden with gold trim and iconography of dragons and staves. It could feel very cold and impersonal, but Dorian did well to clutter his personal chambers and fill up the empty corners with knick-knacks and souvenirs of all sorts from his travels, along with the gifts Aldred had sent him ever since he'd returned to Tevinter.

Aldred dropped easily into the chair, Dorian fitting comfortably into his lap and rifling his fingers through Aldred's hair happily. Aldred sighed a little, a mixture of content to be with Dorian yet also frustration that already Dorian was asking for him to express his thoughts and feelings.

“I'm still not... very good at this,” Aldred admitted, catching Dorian's hand in his and kissing it apologetically. “So forgive me if I am obtuse in any way.”

“Well, start with the council... I only saw you but briefly beforehand, and, frankly, did not expect to see you so soon again.”

“It was... well... I....” Aldred's tongue ran along his lips before his teeth bit into them in thought, a long sigh loosing from him as he struggled to form an answer. “This is difficult... it would be much easier if I could write you a letter.”

Dorian snorted and teasingly tugged on Aldred's whiskers. “You look a damn mess,” he said, just as he had said when Aldred first appeared in Minrathous. His eyes had been scathing then in their assessment of Aldred and his worn out traveling clothes, overgrown beard, and what was likely _layers_ of grime coating him.

“I was on the road...” Aldred weakly said in defense.

“On the run,” Dorian corrected him swiftly. “For whatever purpose, though I'm sure I know.”

“Must we bicker?”

“Naturally, it is one of the few ways I know to make your words come,” Dorian laughed, his fingers moving to scratch beneath Aldred's chin. “I think I might grow accustomed to all this scruff... we shall see. But, do continue.”

Aldred rolled his eyes, but the smile he wore did not dissipate. “The Inquisition has been disbanded, but you know as much,” he began rather directly.

“Not by your own lips or hand, and _you_ know as much,” Dorian reminded him. “Oh yes, I heard about the disbanding—a mistake if anyone were to ask me—and I heard about your departure too. But, believe me when I say I heard very little else—again, a fault that belongs to you.”

Aldred turned his gaze towards the windows, eyes neither able to see through the colored panes nor process the picture they created as he thought. “I came to you as fast as I could....” So Dorian really did intend to beat and bully the words from him with snide remarks and criticisms....

Dorian made a face. “Is that supposed to excuse you? What about the messages I sent _you_? Or when I tried to reach you via the sending crystal?”

“I didn't want to be found—a fact which, oddly enough, Divine Victoria seems to be respecting,” Aldred answered easily.

“No one is going to track you down with a sending crystal.”

“Are you sure? You found me pretty easily when I used mine,” Aldred pointed out, a wicked grin on his face as he recalled how Dorian had first found him.

“That's different—I could hear you harassing one of my guards, and naturally I knew you were on my doorstep,” Dorian huffed.

“That guard deserves a bonus, I think. After all, she did a very good job of keeping me out.”

“Why you didn't just give her your name is beyond me.”

Aldred shrugged, his hand drumming along Dorian's waist as he held him in his lap. “It felt odd to say it now. Aldred... Aldred who? Aldred Trevelyan... again, who? The Inquisitor? There is no such man as he... not any longer,” Aldred said, his voice altering between phrases as he held a short conversation with himself.

Dorian made a face and wiggled out of Aldred's lap. Aldred didn't mind; it was almost rewarding to be able to watch Dorian move around his quarters, _especially_ whenever his backside was turned towards Aldred. To see him unadorned with armor was to see his actual frame, lithe but with a sure step that had as much heat beneath it as Dorian's biting remarks.

“And there we get to the reality of it,” Dorian hummed, clasping his hands behind his back and standing before the fireplace. “You are nobody once more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, but part 2 of "Broken Circles, Mended Hearts" will be unable to update nearly as quickly as part 1 was able.
> 
> I have a bit of a rule about ensuring I'm well ahead of the game when it comes to posting lengthy stories like this, and I had to break that rule in order to begin posting January 1st as planned. My new laptop charger has arrived, and the goal is to post every Tuesday from here on out!
> 
> See you next week~


	2. Half a Weapon

“You are as distracted and troubled as ever,” Dorian commented as he approached and leaned against the desk Aldred was working at.

Aldred had taken over a corner of Dorian's room within a week of arriving, rearranging near everything to his own tastes. This meant, in Dorian's opinion, making it dull and purely functional without a hint of personality to it. In an act of protest, Dorian had re-stained the desk an unsightly shade of blue with white trim. Aldred didn't mind—a desk was a desk, and that was all he needed in order to work.

“Naturally. The world is in danger,” Aldred replied simply.

“Naturally,” Dorian agreed, but there was something bitter to the way he said it. “What do you plan to do about it?”

Aldred sighed, sitting back in his chair and redirecting his focus to Dorian. There would be no more work this evening. Not if Dorian had any say about it. “I really don't know,” he admitted, his fingers drumming on the edge of the desk as he spoke. “I mean, at the root of it, I plan to stop Solas. But... I don't know how. I don't know where he is, and, were I to find him, what would I even say? There is no appealing to the man.”

“Certainly he must care for you in some way... look at what the Inquisition accomplished. Doesn't he feel any pride in his work?” Dorian asked, only for Aldred to laugh loudly and scornfully.

“The Inquisition was never anything more to him than a means to carry through with his own destruction of our world,” Aldred scoffed. “Ridiculous. We stopped one evil only to make way for a worse one....”

Dorian frowned and moved around the desk to place his hand over Aldred's, his lips pursing as though he meant to say something but could not decide what was best to say. “Come. Let's do something interesting,” Dorian suggested instead. 

Aldred felt his lips tug into a tight smile, recalling how often Dorian had teased him when he had said the same words. “What did you have in mind?”

Dorian shrugged. “Why not walk the streets of Minrathous? You've still yet to properly see them. Whatever are you making that face for?”

Aldred hadn't realized his expression had gone sour at the suggestion, and he turned his face from Dorian to stare at the contents of the desk once more. “I... I don't know if I'm ready to go out in public just yet.”

“Why ever not? You've been in the public eye a multitude of times these past few years. Are you afraid you'll be bothered? That someone in need of aid will approach you?”

“No, that's not it....”

“Good, because I wouldn't think it so. You said yourself that you are unrecognizable to most now, and I can't see why anyone would be bothering a stranger like you.”

“Nobody,” Aldred corrected. “ _We_ established that I'm nobody.”

Dorian shook his head. “I disagree with the label,” he replied. “Still, this does not provide an adequate reason for staying indoors.”

“I never said it was my reason—that was your own conclusion, which I thought you had already dismissed as nonsense,” Aldred reminded him.

Dorian flicked him in the temple for his cheekiness, Aldred feeling the sting of it and playfully threatening to bite Dorian's hand if it came near his face again. “No no no, I'm not falling for it today—you're not going to have me talking circles with myself and guessing at your behavior. Out with it, tell me your reason,” Dorian demanded, now pushing himself up onto the desk.

Aldred had to hurry to shift the desk contents out of the way, Dorian's ass very nearly tipping over an open inkwell onto the book he'd been studying. But, perhaps it wouldn't have been too devastating seeing as he had yet to learn anything that would aid him in finding and stopping Solas.

“You're not going to like it,” Aldred admitted, placing his hand upon Dorian's thigh and massaging his fingers into the meat of it.

“I've heard many things I've disliked. I'll hear another.”

Aldred laughed shortly and pushed himself back from the desk to rise. He moved towards the stained glass windows of Dorian's quarters, looking over them and feeling his tongue move about in the space of his mouth as he thought about what he meant to say. “I don't want to embarrass you,” Aldred decided.

Dorian tilted his head at the answer, his frame relaxing on the desk as he watched Aldred move about the room.

“Embarrass me? How so?”

“I... I mean... I know our relationship was something of a scandal as is, and that, for the most part, it has come to be accepted... but... yours is a world of powerful mages, and I may have been one. But now... in this state....”

“Amatus...” Dorian said, urging Aldred to continue when he paused yet again.

“Patience, Dorian. Understand that I am trying to convey something difficult, and I don't wish to be scorned for it,” Aldred returned, the words easily spoken. It was a sentence he had said more than once, and so it was natural for him to say it again. Like a sort of prayer, it was a phrase that could be used to help him focus and to remind Dorian that Aldred had lived a life far different from his. 

Dorian nodded at the words, his expression softening. 

“We have talked before, long ago, about the weapons of a mage. Our hands... our dangerous hands.”

“Dangerous and soft,” Dorian interrupted, Aldred exhaling a laugh.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I guess that what I'm trying to say is that I feel like I have become somehow... lesser. While the people of Tevinter may have seen Aldred Trevelyan, Inquisitor and Mage of Ostwick, as someone of note... perhaps someone even worthy of you... well, I just fear they will not see me as such now.”

“Lesser...” Dorian said as though he meant to feel the word out and taste its meaning through speaking it. “Can you elaborate?”

Aldred shrugged and continued looking at the windows and their many colorful panes. He liked them best when the sun was rising and the panes lit up like jewels and dappled the room with their colors, especially when the shapes of lights stretched long over the bed and he could see Dorian sleeping in hues of gold and blue beside him.

“Look at me. I am half a weapon. A bow without its arrows, a hilt with no blade. Where lies the danger in half a mage?”

He heard Dorian move behind him, apparently leaving the desk to approach Aldred and wrap his arms tightly around him from behind. Aldred crossed his arm over his chest to reciprocate the hug as best he could, eyes closing as he felt Dorian's lips at the nape of his neck.

“You are not these things,” Dorian said sternly, voice quiet but firm as he hugged Aldred.

Aldred had no reply to give. Even if Dorian disagreed, it did not change anything.


	3. Dimly Lit

His arm was screaming, bands of green light ripping from his palm and snaking up his arm. They burst and snapped, crackling with energy and immobilizing him. He was on the ground, arm dead at his side with his teeth gnashing together in agony. His nostrils flared, air hissing from between his teeth when able along with half spoken curses and grunts of pain.

A hand in his, pulling that limb upward and fingers snapping together in one simple command. Head lolling forward, vision blurred but eyes following after the slender figure that left him. Unable to speak. Unable to cry. Unable to do anything to save himself.

Aldred wasn't sure when it was that he slipped between dreaming and reality, but the pain was still there along with the terrible sensation that he was choking. He couldn't move, his hands refusing to help him as he struggled to breathe. Any words he meant to say were kept locked within his throat, and for a moment he thought it was the words that were obstructing his airway.

It seemed in the dark that the figure in his dreams had followed him into his waking world... a shadow watching, a face contorting between humanoid to something vaguely wolfish and horrifying. He wanted to scream at it, his heart pounding heavily in his chest and his mind racing in fear.

Time was dragging around him, and every second seemed to bring that horror nearer to him. Something woke inside of him, Aldred's jaw loosening before his muscles. He found himself roaring in the dark, a battle cry tearing from within him as he meant to raise his staff in attack.

There was no staff, however, and there was no figure. More importantly, there was no mark and there was no hand to even bare it.

A flame lit near the bed, Dorian groaning as he rolled over to face Aldred.

“Again?” he asked drowsily to no reply.

Aldred was still feeling his muscles work free before he was able to shift on the bed, Dorian moving as well and reaching out to place a hand on Aldred's chest. He removed it almost instantly, Aldred able to make out a grimace on Dorian's face as he pulled his hand away. Aldred was damp with sweat, the sheets beneath him cold and moist with it as well. “It must have been awful...” he remarked

Aldred caught Dorian's hand and brushed his lips over the soft knuckles there, breathing heavily and using the presence of Dorian to ground himself and dispel the remains of a bad dream. “I'm sorry...” he mumbled.

“Yes, yes; you didn't intend to wake me, it won't happen again, blah blah blah,” Dorian replied, pulling his hand free from Aldred's before slipping out of bed. Another candle lit itself, Dorian tugging a robe over his lean figure and yawning. “I'll fetch us some tea,” he offered, Aldred nodding and watching Dorian leave before he shifted to clutch his head.

It hurt. He didn't want Dorian to see how much it hurt, but his head was throbbing and his teeth ached from whatever gnashing of them he'd done in his sleep. It wasn't the first time he'd woken Dorian this way; too many times now he had woken up screaming and begging for Solas to listen to him. Was it even fair that Dorian was becoming accustomed to it to the point he knew exactly what Aldred would say if given the chance? 

Sighing, Aldred slumped back against the pillows and hoped the pain would reside soon. It was late... or perhaps early. He didn't know; the stained glass panes were dark and told him nothing of the time. He was only able to keep track of the time Dorian was absent by watching the drippings of the candle as the flame steadily ate away at the wick.

It wasn't too long of a wait, Dorian returning with a tea tray and setting it on the end table nearest Aldred. It fit there neatly, Dorian having removed the books and trinkets that once occupied the space. Aldred didn't know where the items had been spirited away to, but he had noticed that Dorian had done this once it was evident that his night terrors were to be a common occurrence. Dorian was slowly altering his room and lifestyle to accommodate Aldred, and that realization was one Aldred shrunk back from. 

Was he to feel guilty for this? He did... but, guilt was so familiar to him as to feel like another accessory—no more unusual to wear than a buckle or glove. He took the tea Dorian offered him, turning his attention to Dorian and enjoying the deep and candle-accented shadows of Dorian's face.

Dorian had pulled a chair up beside the bed to seat himself on and was watching Aldred closely, the rim of his own teacup pressing into softly into his lips as he sipped it and said nothing. It was odd, but Aldred couldn't blame him for having nothing to say. He should've been asleep still. They both should have. 

“I...” Aldred started, his voice fading as he thought better of what he meant to say. “Thank you. For the tea,” he said instead, raising his cup to drink. There was an unexpected sourness to the tea, Aldred's lips puckering at the taste as he tried to place it. It was far too familiar. 

“Elfroot... for the pain,” Dorian said, answering before Aldred could even attempt to ask.

“The pain?” Aldred echoed, as though he were ignorant to what Dorian was speaking of.

Dorian wasn't buying it, and the scowl on his face said as much. “Amatus, don't,” he said firmly. “I might have believed such an act three years ago, but I know better now. You're hurting, and you're hiding it.”

Aldred nodded, his expression mulish in response to Dorian calling him out. “I apologize. I am struggling... I don't mean to bother you.” The tea was difficult to drink, the pungency of the elfroot masking the majority of the other leaves flavors and blending poorly with those it could not overcome. Beside that, there was another taste to the tea that had Aldred grimacing at each sip. Something like ground pepper, but not quite.

Dorian shook his head at Aldred's apologies, uninterested in any excuses Aldred might have to give. “Your stubbornness is what bothers me, not your reasonable needs as a person. I understand that you've been surrounded by people who wouldn't care if you approached them with your head half-off, but you'd do better to remember I am _not_ those people.”

Aldred smiled grimly at Dorian's words. “I know. I just worry. I feel as though I am disrupting your life with my needs.” He was beginning to feel sluggish, as though his thoughts and movements were delayed.

“My life? No. My sleep, however...” Dorian teased impishly. He caught that Aldred had stopped drinking his tea rather soon, and he gestured for Aldred to continue. At Aldred's unpleasant face, Dorian scoffed. “You need to finish it if you want the pain to cease, otherwise it's only going to dull the worst of it for a little while.”

“No offense to your tea-making, but it tastes horrid,” Aldred replied. Besides that, it was getting difficult to lift the cup to his lips as it were. For a moment, he wasn't even sure if he'd responded to Dorian in a timely manner or if minutes had passed before he'd spoken again. Frowning, he looked at Dorian. “What else was in this tea?”

“Ground black lotus seeds,” Dorian answered, setting his own cup down and reaching for Aldred. “Elfroot for the pain, black lotus for the dreams,” he said, lips brushing over Aldred's forehead briefly before he took the empty cup from Aldred's hand.

Aldred didn't remember finishing it. Was it dark because the candle was burning low, or was it that he could not keep his eyes open any longer?


	4. Unwell

Aldred awoke alone. It was late in the morning judging by how the sun through the stained glass windows was nearly blinding him in bed, and he shut his eyes again almost immediately after opening them. He could feel the suns warmth even from here, the lids of his eyes red to his vision. It was comforting.

Skyhold was never so warm.

He brought his hand to his face and scratched at the beard adorning his chin, noting he was able to near bury his fingers in it these days. It really had grown in well during his travels.... Groaning sleepily, his hand moved to pat the blankets behind him as though seeking to confirm Dorian really was gone. 

He was, and Aldred couldn't blame him. If the sun was hitting the bed, then it must have been near noon already. Dorian had a lot of things to do, regardless of whatever Aldred was doing, and surely was already busy with an assortment of tasks. Aldred pushed himself upright and blinked some of the haziness of sleep away. He had something to do too... didn't he? 

Last night was blurry and his head felt heavy. He sighed, wondering if he was well and should consider staying in bed. No... no, that wouldn't be good. Dorian didn't have time to assist a bedridden man on top of all his other duties. No, it wouldn't do. Aldred cleared his throat and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, feeling the stone floor beneath his toes tentatively before pushing himself to his feet. The floors of Skyhold had always been chilling. What an oddity to feel a stone that was merely cool and almost enjoyably so. 

As he stood he felt himself rather unsteadied, his steps staggering as he made his way towards the desk and leaned heavily against it. This didn't feel right. He didn't _feel_ sick. He felt... altered. Looking around the room, he noticed Dorian's tea tray near the bed with two empty cups upon it. The image stirred something in him, and he blew out a laugh of disbelief.

~*~

“You poisoned me!”

Dorian quirked a brow at the accusation, straightening up from his work to meet Aldred's eye. “You're looking awfully well for someone poisoned,” he remarked, “No. It'd be better to say I drugged you, and only a little.”

It had taken Aldred quite a while to dress himself after waking. He'd stumbled his way all over Dorian's quarters, cursing repeatedly and angrily as he realized the day was not getting any easier. Apart from already struggling to do up his buttons with one hand, that hand was furiously uncooperative along with the rest of his limbs.

He'd probably looked a fool as he'd searched the property for Dorian, moving with steps that varied between quick and short to long and delayed. If it weren't for his tongue being on his side, he was sure Dorian's assorted personnel would've labeled him a complete drunkard. God, to be intoxicated so early in the day. He almost wished he were.

“Dorian!” Aldred snapped.

Dorian rolled his eyes and turned to face Aldred fully, a quill still gripped betwixt his thumb and forefinger as he tapped his foot. “Amatus, my dear, can you really blame me? I have my own work to do in the Magisterium....” 

He'd found Dorian in the library, surrounded by shelf upon shelf of leather bound books and tomes of all colors and sizes. Seeing him in such a place, it was no wonder that he'd often taken to holing up in the library of Skyhold. It must've reminded him very much of home.

“That's no excuse!” Aldred argued, his words firm even as he had to steady himself against the nearest bookshelf. “Send me away if you must, but, Dorian, _really_? _This_!?”

Dorian lips thinned as if he meant to keep a thought trapped on his tongue. He couldn't, though, a smile escaping him as he looked over Aldred. “So I got the dosage a little wrong...” he said airily.

Aldred scowled at him. “Are you really such a fool?” he asked bitterly, Dorian shrugging in response. “You _took away my dreams_!” Aldred said, voice dropping to a whisper as though it were a secret. “You _know_ and you did it anyways!”

At Aldred's accusation, Dorian's expression softened. 

“Oh, Amatus... maker, forgive me. I had entirely forgotten,” he claimed, setting aside his quill and moving away from his desk to meet Aldred. Aldred didn't back away from Dorian's touch, Dorian carding his fingers through Aldred's pale hair and looking genuinely apologetic. 

Aldred sighed, his hand catching one of Dorian's wrists and rubbing the pad of his thumb roughly over the skin. “You are certain?” he asked quietly.

“Quite and truly so,” Dorian affirmed. “It has been some time since last we were together, and I really have been dreadfully busy. My mind is a scramble with all sorts of information, and I wish it hadn't been yours that had gotten misplaced.”

Aldred noticed when Dorian began toying with his shirt buttons as he talked. As though he were in any state to participate. But, then Dorian laughed. There shouldn't have been a laugh. This was a serious thing they were discussing, and Aldred frowned at the soft chuckle that Dorian emitted.

“Your buttons... you're entirely off and you've missed near half,” he laughed, Aldred looking down to realize Dorian was right. “And you've got your belt twisted... and only one of your pant legs tucked... goodness, you look a mess! Has anyone seen you today?”

Aldred's lips pursed together before he answered. If his appearance in any way was an embarrassment to Dorian, it was a well deserved one. “Nearly everyone,” he answered smugly.

Dorian laughed and shook his head, stepping away from Aldred to rub his temples before looking Aldred in the eye. “I am... I cannot... I will be unable to forgive myself if I allow you to continue running about looking like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Chanting: Short chapter short chapter


	5. A Walk

“Gods it is warm...” 

Aldred had been making the same complaint since he first arrived in Minrathous, eager to share his dislike of the warmth with Dorian. He'd kept it to himself during his travels, considering he'd had no one to tell it to, but he'd been thinking the entire time about how he would complain of it to Dorian when he saw him. As though Dorian might somehow change the weather just for him.

“It's really not,” Dorian disagreed. He was walking beside Aldred, keeping pace with him as they wandered through the marketplace. “It's only just spring. If this bothers you, you'll certainly despise our summers.”

Aldred scoffed in reply. “Well, hopefully I'll find Solas before then....”

Dorian ignored his comment, waving his hand at Aldred dismissively and carrying on as though he'd never mentioned Solas.

“I don't see why you've got such a bug up your butt about it. You've been in worse climates while serving the Inquisition,” Dorian reminded him. A knowing look passed between them, shared memories of the cold swampy marshlands of The Fallow Mire, of endless sand in every crevice they possessed after trips to the Hissing Wastes, and of being perpetually wet at the Storm Coast. Certainly there were worse things than just being warm.

“There was a goal to focus on then. The sooner it was completed, the sooner we'd be back at Skyhold.”

“Ah yes, where one's nose remains raw and red, the fingers stay chilled and numb, and a bitter wind will bite at your ears and nip at your heels every chance it gets. Yes, what a perfect climate,” Dorian remarked.

“You could've dressed warmer,” Aldred pointed out, and Dorian laughed sharply.

“And you could also benefit from changing your own attire!” he said, gesturing to Aldred's traditionally Ferelden garments. It was true, the scratchy and thick cotton was really doing him no good. But, still... he could hardly imagine himself dressed in the finery of a Tevinter mage. 

Dorian seemed to notice the hesitation he sparked in Aldred, and he turned to cup Aldred's face between between his hands. “Still hearing those instilled doubts of the Circle? You _are_ worthy. Of so much,” he said. He squished Aldred's cheeks between his palms and smiled, Aldred sighing and following after him when he turned away again. “Come. I had only meant to purchase a few writing supplies today, but I think we ought to reconsider your wardrobe while we're out.”

Aldred shook his head and stayed close to Dorian. “Fine. I'll allow it. But, be reasonable with your choices.”

Dorian feigned a dismayed gasp, gesturing dramatically to himself as he spoke. “ _Me_? _Unreasonable_? Why I _never_!”

Aldred chuckled. “I only meant I do not share your affinity for extravagance.”

“Amatus, you only have yet to develop a taste for it. I think it's time. You've lived your bland little Circle life, and you've worn the garments of a hero. Why not embrace some decadence in this time of peace?”

“I know of no such time while Solas is still hidden from me.”

Dorian's shoulders stiffened at the mention of Solas' name yet again, and he inhaled deeply before meeting Aldred's eye. “I... Aldred. I don't understand you. Why must _you_ be the one to go after Solas? Can't it be someone else?”

“Who else would go?”

“I don't know. Let the Chantry decide their new hero. You've already walked down the path of being their Herald. You know how it ends.”

“Ah yes, with deceit and abandonment,” Aldred agreed. “I remember well.”

“Yes! So let it be someone else this time... you know better!”

Aldred caught Dorian's hand in his and kissed it lightly. It did not matter that he stood on the street at this time, and that this action was done in plain view of all those who frequented the marketplace. “I don't know, Dorian. I don't know if I can sit back and do nothing....”

Dorian sighed, his hand reaching to ruffle Aldred's hair good-naturedly. “Well... I pray, if you find him, you do not return to me missing anymore limbs than you presently are.”

Aldred laughed and pulled away from Dorian's hands, his hand raking through his pale locks to fix them after Dorian had so cruelly displaced them.

“Speaking of, how do you fare in that matter?” Dorian asked, his eyes flicking towards the half empty sleeve that Aldred had tied in a knot at his side.

“I'm managing,” Aldred answered with a shrug. “Still unused to it, but I'll be fine.”

The heels of their boots clicked solidly in unison as they walked beside each other. Aldred's eyes dragged over vendor stalls and the wares they offered. Delicious pastries, delicate beads, folds upon folds of silk... what a charming place. The vendors he'd frequented in the past carried blades and bandages. What a delightful little market, free of the tools of war.

“Of course. Though, I do worry... since you first arrived and showed me, you have given me no opportunity to look at it again. Nor any other aspects of yourself.”  
Aldred raised an eyebrow. He'd known this conversation was to come, but he had not expected Dorian to be so brazen as to bring it up in public.

“If you're worried that I am here only to take advantage of your hospitality, I assure you that's not the case...” Aldred said, his voice dropping low to keep their conversation as private as he could manage.

“I never said such a thing,” Dorian countered. “I only meant to imply you are hiding from me. Am I correct?”

Aldred blew out a breath and trained his eyes ahead of him. He could feel Dorian's eyes watching him closely. “You are a sly man, putting me in a place where I cannot dodge you or your questions.”

He could tell that Dorian was grinning at such a reply. Dorian, eating up all the satisfaction he could knowing that he had so cleverly pinned Aldred this way.

“Mea famis...” Dorian clucked under his breath. His words needed no translation, his eyes on Aldred saying everything; want, desire, _hunger_.  


“Patience.”

Dorian exhaled loudly, lips drawing into a pout as he stayed beside Aldred. “I fear I'll have to forbid you from pursuing Solas. You become shy with distance. I'm certain, given enough time apart, you could learn how to put me off forever.”

“It isn't the fault of the land between us,” Aldred reminded him.


	6. In Keeping with Fashion

Aldred twisted in front of the mirror, looking over the attire Dorian had selected for him and trying to decide whether he liked it or not. He knew he didn't hate it. Not _drastically_ anyways. It was very fine clothing, much of it dyed rich blues and greens with plenty of teal middle grounds. Something about it and his eyes, Dorian had said. They matched? It brought them out? Aldred had stopped paying attention when Dorian had launched into something of a soliloquy on the various fabrics to be found in Tevinter. He seemed very proud of his homeland for its garish fashions.

Naturally, what Aldred chose to have done with the cloth over the last few days was not exactly what Dorian had in mind. Simple trousers, reinforced in the thighs to prevent chafing, and a near plain tunic cut from one of the teal folds of cloth they'd purchased. Sure, Aldred had allowed some blue and gold stitching to be done around its hems, but the adornment was light. He'd even allowed it when Dorian insisted the tunic be sleeveless, exposing his shoulders to the air and sun just as Dorian's so often were. But, after that, he'd been firm in the garment's simplicity.

Really, the most delightful article of clothing they'd had made was nothing of much note. It was rather like a stocking, fabric black and stretchy, but it slid comfortably over Aldred's left arm and tucked neatly into his clothing at the shoulder. Something about the feeling of it over his arm made him feel as though the scars and trauma of the injury had been hidden away, but that the overall loss of his arm was something now embraced rather than discreetly kept within his coat. 

His arm was free. No heavy sleeve tied around it, and no reason to continue bundling himself into jackets when it was completely disadvantageous to the weather. 

“Well... I can say that you are less of an affront to all that is Tevinter fashion now,” Dorian remarked. He was laying on the bed, resting on his stomach and letting his arms hang lazily over the edge of the bed as he watched Aldred. He was relaxed, entirely at ease in his own chambers and enjoying the view. 

“Only less?” Aldred asked, still turning before the mirror. The clothing was very light in weight. Almost airy. 

“My dear, you are an assault upon the sense of near every person you've had the misfortune of meeting,” Dorian said candidly. 

Aldred snorted and turned towards Dorian. This was but one of the outfits they had commissioned, though Aldred had no interest in trying them all on this morning. Even if Dorian did desire such a show.

Aldred approached the bed, knee pressing into the mattress at Dorian's side and feeling it dip beneath his weight. Dorian rolled over, shifting onto his backside as he moved to make room for Aldred. Lips stretched into a smirk as Aldred swung one leg over his hips, straddling him and trapping him against the mattress. Aldred's hand lightly cupped his face, fingers slipping back just behind the ear and thumb grazing over the cheekbones. 

“What a cruel thing to say,” he scolded. “I've always thought of myself as rather pleasant.”

“Rather a _bore_ ,” Dorian corrected, his arms wrapping around Aldred's neck to pull him lower.

Aldred brushed his lips against Dorian's, feeling how Dorian smiled when he did. It was only a small kiss, just a soft gesture, but Dorian was right. It had been... some time.

“I wonder at the fact you think insulting me will get you your way...”

“It's working so far,” Dorian pointed out. 

Aldred laughed and shook his head, rolling off Dorian to lay beside him. He found and tangled his fingers with Dorian's, sighing as he looked up at the ceiling. “A little while longer... just a little,” he murmured, pleading for Dorian to wait for him. 

Dorian hummed deep in his throat, a dissatisfied noise with enough tone to say everything. “You are ever testing my patience,” he muttered, fingers squeezing Aldred's tightly as he spoke. 

Aldred pulled Dorian's hand near, lips kissing the fingers he held and smiling against them. “The wait will only-”

His words were cut off by the doors of Dorian's chambers rattling loudly, fists banging urgently against them while someone hollered outside. Both he and Dorian sat upright immediately, Dorian swinging his legs off the bed and hurrying to the door to answer it. Aldred remained, body tense as he watched Dorian.

“Magister Pavus! There is-”

Aldred caught a glimpse of one of Dorian's guards, and briefly their eyes met. In that moment, their voice dropped low and Aldred could hear no more than the faintest mumblings.

“They...... _urgent_...and.....no, milord, it's......ing........yes, milord................”

Aldred could make out none of Dorian's responses, but he watched and noted every change of posture Dorian made. Tension... alarm... now anger... and then, finally, a sort of stubborn and determined pose. Shoulders squared, chest raised, tension running all the way down to his ass....

Aldred made a face. This was not the time to be thinking about that. Something was wrong.

The guard's eyes kept flicking towards him, and Aldred realized that perhaps he was not meant to be hearing any of this. But... there were no secrets between he and Dorian. At least, that was what he'd been lead to believe. Still, Dorian's hushed voice and the guard's nervous glances... Aldred felt a hollowness forming in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My work schedule keeps shifting around on me, but I swear I'm working very hard to ensure the updates are consistent!  
> It looks like things may be getting more interesting!  
> See you next week~


	7. At Threat of Tranquility

Aldred sighed and slumped back in his chair. He'd been trying to learn more about Fenharel, but it seemed he had already learned as much as he could from the books available to him. He was going in circles by now. What an idea to think that he had stood beside Solas, the Dread Wolf himself, in temples with carvings devoted to the man himself. He blew out a breath of disbelief and let his head loll back, eyes towards the ceiling and following the unusual architecture of it. _Lot of dragon symbolism._

Dragons. It'd been a long time since he'd last faced one of those. He didn't miss it one bit. Sure, Bull had positively loved it (to the point of being aroused by it, he'd even admitted), but for Aldred it seemed the beasts were simply always in the way. Frustrating obstacles, rather than magnificent creatures to be awed and inspired by.

He sighed again, the memories beginning to wear on him. He missed his companions. He missed the banter they had provided on their journeys. Blackwall's dry opinions, Bull's energetic laughter... Sara and Varric's game of making him blush and stammer with their acute and inappropriate questions and tales. He missed how Cole would help him in his own unusual way, no matter how personal it may have gotten. There were very few companions he did not miss. Unfortunately, he did miss Solas.

Or rather, the man he'd thought Solas to be. He missed the wise Elven man who taught him so much about himself and the fade. The man with good intentions, or so he had believed.

He found himself drifting on those memories of kindness, desperately reaching for each bit of happiness he'd felt during his time as the Inquisitor. There was so much of it, and he clung to it like it was a rock in the river of his sorrow-filled past. Everyday it seemed the river ran a little slower and grew a little more shallow, and his rock was becoming an island in a stream of peacefulness. But... there was still time.

Time for the heavens to open and drown them all. Time for Solas to rain down upon them his own regrets and the guilt he felt from his actions. 

Aldred had almost dozed off when he heard the door open, its lock clicking softly as it was shut again. He barely opened his eyes to look at Dorian, but the man's expression was grim in return. Lips thin and drawn back, brows furrowed and shoulders tense... it was enough to make Aldred sit up and fix him with a quizzical eye.

“Dorian... what is it?” Aldred asked when Dorian offered no words. He could see that Dorian was clenching his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he struggled to give Aldred an answer.

“Amatus... the Chantry... they have declared you an enemy.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“An enemy!?”

Dorian's words had failed to register with Aldred when he first made the announcement, and it was several hours before Aldred could manage to voice a single thought on the matter. But, now, as the sun dipped low and Dorian sat at the desk and took over its surface, he found himself quaking with shock at the statement.

“ _Me!?_ This is absurd! It's ridiculous! I have done nothing but good for the Chantry, and now they... they aim to make me into an enemy? To twist me into the villain of all this!?”

“Amatus...” Dorian said softly.

“On what grounds!? By whose eye do they perceive our situation!?”

“Amatus...” Dorian repeated again.

“I have done them no harm! For years they heralded me and lifted me to the status of a deity, even against my wishes, and now they turn! Was their disbandment not rejection enough?!” Aldred was bellowing in his frustration, boot heels scuffing the floor angrily as he marched the limits of Dorian's quarters. He huffed loudly, turning around and directing his glare towards Dorian. “My entire life has been controlled and limited under their direction! Will they pursue me into my grave!?”

“Aldred!” Dorian said sharply, demanding Aldred's attention. “It isn't as simple as that.”

Aldred scowled in return and attempted to cross his arms, though with one forearm missing the gesture lost its severity and power. He scoffed loudly and moved across the chambers, seating himself on the edge of the bed and waving for Dorian to continue.

“The Circles,” Dorian began, pausing to clear his throat. “I... forgive me, Aldred, for I have withheld from you the events of much of Thedas since the disbanding of the Inquisition.”

Aldred's eyes narrowed at the apology, his fingers gripping the bedding beneath him as he tried to maintain some semblance of calm. “And what do you mean by that?”

Dorian sighed loudly and reclined back in his chair, his hand searching inside the breast of his clothing before he drew out a folded letter. He opened it slowly, as though it were delicate and might threaten to fall apart in his fingers, and ran his tongue over his lips as he looked at it.

“Magister Pavus,” he began, “As you are well aware, the Mage Circles have been rebuilt under the hand of Divine Victoria. This action did not sit well with many of the Inquistion mages, and they left to form a college of sorts. Regretfully, this did not succeed and the mages returned to the Inquistion whereupon Divine Victoria turned a blind eye to their existence as a nod to its power and accomplishments.”

Aldred rolled his eyes. This was not news. He had been there and had personally argued with Vivienne over her choices. It didn't matter that she was the new Divine Victoria. To him, she was still the same woman with a reproachful eye who spoke down to him. 

“However,” Dorian continued, “This is no longer the case. The light of the Chantry now searches, a beacon diving into every deep shadow and crevice and snaking out those who would hide from its brilliance. With the Inquisition disbanded, the Divine feels that the 'rebel mages' have no valid cause and are a danger to others and themselves without proper guidance, instruction, and supervision. She has declared that these mages are to return to the Circles, or face the blade of a Templar if they are not willing.”

There it was. The hollowness, cold and heavy as it formed in his stomach. He felt like he was collapsing inwards as a star might. His nails were threatening to cut into the blankets as he gripped them to steady himself. Was he still breathing? He wasn't sure anymore.

Dorian's eyes lifted from the letter to scan over Aldred's face and the expression that lie there, giving him time to register the letter's contents before going on.

“While this announcement brings much alarm to the mages who once stood by the Inquisition, it is the following decree that makes the blood boil in my veins. Lord Aldred Trevelyan has been declared an enemy to the Chantry with crimes ranging from petty to grand. He has been labeled a traitor, an impostor, a heretic, a rebel, an escapee, and more... they call for his return to the Mage Circles... at threat of Tranquility.”


	8. Easy to Remove, Easy to Remember

“How dare she...”

Aldred had muttered the same sentiment several times over the course of the evening, unable to stop himself from ranting about the actions of Vivienne. They'd had their disagreements during their time in Skyhold, but he'd never thought of them as a threat to his person. Yet, the letter lay there on the desk with its ominous message.

“Be calm, Aldred, and do not be too harsh with her,” Dorian interrupted, his hand coming to rest on Aldred's shoulder as he stood behind him.

“ _Do not be too harsh with her_!?” Aldred repeated incredulously, turning his head back to look over his shoulder at Dorian. “She has ordered my destruction!”

“It may not be so. We do not know the strain she may be under. Others may compel her hand, and she may have very little say in the matter.”

“Pah!” Aldred spat before tearing himself away from Dorian's touch to stand before the stained glass windows. “Is the Divine a vessel for Andraste, or is she to be a vessel for the unjustified fears of her _devotees_?”

He said the word with such disdain, the sneer on his face coming through his voice even as his back was turned to Dorian. 

“I will not go,” he said firmly, turning round again to meet Dorian's gaze. Dorian stood near the center of the room, his expression sympathetic but uncertain as he listened to Aldred. “If this is the thanks I get for saving the world once, then let its destruction come! I shall not save it a second time! Perhaps Solas is right to destroy us all.”

Dorian's lips quirked into a small smile at that, and he emitted a soft and derisive laugh at Aldred's words. Dorian's laugh was met with a haughty glare from Aldred, and he shook his head and lifted his hand to beckon Aldred back to him.

Frustrated as he were, Aldred still found himself complying with the gesture and finding his way into Dorian's arms. He felt them wrap around him, comfortable... _comforting_.

“Fine... perhaps we can convince him to spare just us. Damn the rest of it,” Aldred spoke sullenly into Dorian's shoulder.

“All of it?” Dorian asked, to which Aldred nodded. “I see. Well, I do love your company... but, I'll admit, I may find myself missing others.”

“Like who?”

“The same ones you miss,” Dorian answered vaguely, his fingers pressing firmly into Aldred's backside and running down the length of his spine. He did it over and over again as he spoke, driving away what tension he could. He burrowed his face into the crook of Aldred's neck, lips meeting flesh and planting warm kisses there. 

Aldred didn't protest those touches, nor did he resist when Dorian's fingers slipped beneath his tunic and undid the belt around his waist. He allowed it, his limbs loosening to allow Dorian to do whatever he pleased, though he felt disconnected from each action. Memories of filling a role poked at him, urging him to have some presence in what Dorian was doing, but he found himself unable to do more than be a puppet for Dorian's amusement. 

And Dorian was aware of it. He knew this. Dorian even had teased him for it before. “You're half in the Fade” he would say lightly, lightly mocking Aldred and his inability to fully connect with his surroundings. But... there was no judgment in those words. It was only a phrase, just an acknowledgment....

Aldred's new clothing was considerably easier to remove, each garment tailored to be less of a hindrance for himself when dressing and undressing with only the one arm to assist. It was even simpler for Dorian, goosebumps rising on Aldred's skin as he registered how quickly he'd come to be exposed. 

Dorian guided him towards the bed, pushing him back onto a surface that was overcrowded with pillows and thick blankets. That wasn't Dorian's doing. It was Aldred's. After all the scratchy sheets and hard mattresses of the Circle, followed by the expectations of pebbles beneath his back every time the Inquisition had made camp, it was impossible for Aldred to deny himself the luxury of a good bed with as many pillows as he desired.

He exhaled slowly as Dorian wreathed his throat in kisses, lips and teeth tracing over his collarbones and nipping at the sensitive and thin flesh there. He closed his eyes, attempting to shut away the world and focus only on Dorian's touches even as his mind raced with concerns.

Why now? Was this really the best time? It seemed inappropriate, given the recent news. But still, Aldred could find no will to stop Dorian. He didn't want to. He wanted to escape and pretend that everything was fine. They were only enjoying themselves as they might any other evening. 

But that wasn't true either, and Aldred's eyes blinked open as he felt Dorian tug the sleeve from his left arm, revealing its abrupt end and the thick line of scar tissue. He hissed an exhale through his nose as Dorian lifted his arm, cautious and deliberate in his actions as his lips began to follow a path from Aldred's collarbone to his shoulder and then slowly down his arm and creeping ever closer to its end.

Aldred squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly, afraid and dreading those kisses upon the scar that represented so much more than just a lost arm. They didn't come, Dorian shifting over him and straddling him on the bed. 

“Does it hurt?” Dorian asked, breaking the silence they'd created. His hands rested on Aldred's chest, fingers stroking lazily over the skin there. Aldred opened his eyes to see Dorian watching him closely, and he shrugged in reply.

“No...” he decided.

“But it bothers you,” Dorian ascertained. 

“Yes,” Aldred admitted. 

Dorian didn't press him any further about it, abandoning the delicate subject of Aldred's arm to focus elsewhere instead. He spread his fingers over Aldred's chest, embedding them in the hair that covered it and smiling as he looked down at Aldred. “I like to see you like this again....”

“Hmm? Naked?”

Dorian laughed loudly, fingers moving to pinch one of Aldred's nipples and make Aldred squirm from the sensation. “That too, but I meant _shy_. It's like we're starting all over again.” He pinched Aldred again, Aldred grimacing at the stinging pain and waiting for it to dissolve into an odd sort of pleasure. 

His gaze slipped from Dorian, focusing on a half spent candle as he thought of how to answer. “Not just like... truly are,” he admitted. “This body has been altered... I fear I no longer know how to wield it.”

Dorian hummed in response, his hands roaming lower until Aldred felt warm fingers curling about his shaft. They moved slowly, gently coaxing a response from it. Aldred could feel himself warming and fattening in Dorian's hands, and he shut his eyes and tried not to let himself drift too far.

“See there,” Dorian said, his breath warm against Aldred's cheek. “It remembers well enough. Besides, even if it didn't... well, I'd be happy to teach it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hey! Watch for Thursday this week!)


	9. The Known

Aldred's fingers curled into the sheets beneath him, his brain abuzz with thoughts and sensations. Skin bruising where it was bit, a tongue tracing the curve of his ear, breath hot and wet against flesh... heat, so much heat. Heat on his cheeks, ears burning, warmth spreading from his center. 

Too much. Too much and not enough all at once. 

Aldred raised a hand, reaching for the buckles on Dorian's chest and struggling to undo them. He couldn't. Not on his back like this, and not with only the one hand. Perhaps if he'd had more time to attempt it, but right now they were being frustratingly impossible. He grunted, eyes narrowing in annoyance, but continued to try until it became painfully clear to both he and Dorian that he was making very little progress.

Was that a laugh on Dorian's lips? Amusement at his failings? Whatever brief smile he'd thought he'd seen was gone before he could confirm it, Dorian sitting back atop him and locking eyes with him. He bit his lip as he watched Aldred, fingers nimbly undoing the belts of his tunic without him ever looking away. 

Aldred knew that look was to keep him in the present and prevent him from dwelling on his fumblings. Dorian was like that... he always could tell when Aldred was beating himself up and needed to be redirected. But, this didn't help... Dorian's deliberate stripping of his garments was only a product of Aldred's own failure. 

Aldred struggled to bury those thoughts and focus only on what was before his eyes. Dorian's chest, smooth but for a few old battle scars here and there... the trail of hair that so pleasantly ran down his stomach and became a thick and dark thatch at his groin.... Dorian had fully discarded his clothing now, and he was draping himself over Aldred and pressing every inch of himself against him. 

He was warm and soft, Aldred trying to keep his breathing steady as Dorian sucked against his throat and broke vessels beneath the skin. Blood pooling, visible markers, painful but so wanted. Aldred greedily thought to ask for more. There was no need, though, Dorian adorning his throat with as many marks as he pleased. 

A hand slipped between them, Dorian stretching his fingers around both their cocks and slowly stroking them together. Aldred couldn't stop the shudder that passed through him, his arm curling around Dorian's waist and hand pressing into his backside to keep him close. As if he had any intention of going anywhere....

Their skin was beginning to dampen with sweat from just the small movements they made, Aldred's skin sticking to Dorian's as he hugged him close. Gods, everything was slow, Dorian reintroducing him to an activity they had not participated in for months. He appreciated the slowness, letting each drawn-out movement wholly capture his attention. Fingers digging into Dorian's backside, Dorian's teeth grazing over his nipple and sending a jolt down his spine... the way his hips were beginning to find a rhythm with how Dorian's hand moved between them. 

Dorian muttered something in Tevene, Aldred unable to decipher the words but fully able to understand the sultry tones that coated them. His hand roamed lower, fingers digging into the meat of Dorian's ass. Dorian's response was to release his grip on their cocks, hands pressing into the bedding at either side of Aldred's head as he ground down against him.

Aldred was nearly startled by the noise he made in reply, an involuntary half-moan that pitched upward into something of a cry. He grit his teeth together, trying to stifle any more noises like that, but Dorian would not allow it. Dorian's lips met his, soft but insistent in its kisses until Aldred relaxed his jaw.

There were too many stimulants; Aldred couldn't dwell on his fears or his fumblings or any of the things that embarrassed and brought him shame. Not when Dorian was grinding against him like a madman, his tongue exploring Aldred's mouth as though it might hold some secret. He moaned into Dorian's mouth, relaxing little by little until every concern of his had faded away. 

There was only this. Just he and Dorian and the mutual sharing of their bodies. The only other thought that occurred to him now was a small glass jar he'd seen in a drawer near the bed weeks ago, his brain flashing the image of it at him over and over until he was reaching for the drawer, hand roughly jerking it open and searching blindly for smooth, round glass until he found that little jar.

Dorian reclined back as Aldred presented it to him, a lopsided smile on his face as he looked at the jar. “You've been snooping through my drawers...”

“ _Our_ drawers,” Aldred corrected him. “I've no plans to leave anytime soon... and it wasn't as though I meant to put you off. I did... _some_ reconnaissance. Just to be prepared....”

Dorian laughed, taking the jar from Aldred's hand and twisting its cap off with ease. The contents inside had a faint smell, something herbal, but nothing remarkable or overwhelming. It was warm and a little tacky as Aldred dipped his fingers into the jar and scooped a generous portion of it out. He nodded for Dorian to set the jar down and come back to him, Dorian's lips brushing over his as he reached behind Dorian.

It took little to no time for Aldred to apply the slick substance to Dorian, a finger slowly working its way inside of the man. Dorian kissed him harder for it, and Aldred cautiously moved his hand to further loosen Dorian until he was satisfied. 

“Amatus...” Dorian said softly after awhile, their kisses broken by his moving back. His cheeks were ruddy with want, and Aldred knew that expression was reflected in his own face. There were a hundred things he wanted to tell Dorian in that moment, several already on his tongue, but every single one was forgotten as Dorian shifted back further and steadily lowered himself down on Aldred's cock.

Aldred shut his eyes at the feeling of pressing against Dorian, that brief moment of wondering if Dorian could accommodate him followed by the sensation of breaching him little by little until he was entirely sheathed within Dorian and Dorian was rocking slowly atop him. The man made little noises as he moved, each one deliberate with the intention of making Aldred want him more.

As if he could. 

His heart was already full of love for the man, though it was a constant worry that he might never be able to express as much. That didn't matter now, though. What mattered was how he would respond to Dorian. Dorian, baring down on him. Dorian, hands pressing into Aldred's chest to balance himself. Dorian, eyes on Aldred and watching him still. 

Watching him... watching him for something. _Anything_.

Like a lever wrenched back to open a gate, Aldred felt his thoughts shake loose to allow his body to react. His hips pressed upwards, insistently pushing himself further into Dorian. He continued to move against the man, each movement an unspoken but clear demand; _more, more, more, more!_

His knees drew up, taking away much of Dorian's own ability to move, but that was fine and suited him well enough. He could fuck Dorian easily like this, and give the man everything he'd been wanting since Aldred had arrived. He could fulfill Dorian's needs. He could do whatever Dorian desired.

But then... Dorian spoke to protest it. 

“Don't,” Dorian exhaled, the word sharp even as it was half whispered. “Don't make this something you have to do... not alone. Share it with me.”

Aldred blinked at the stern words, alarmed that he had slipped so easily. He hadn't let go of his thoughts to focus on Dorian... he'd let go of them to fulfill a sense of duty to the man. 

Dorian patted his cheek, still trying to get Aldred to focus _correctly_. “You think much too loud,” he teased. “Come now... relax. Doesn't it feel good? Don't _I_ feel good?”

Aldred nodded hesitantly. “... Yes,” he admitted, relaxing his legs so Dorian could move again. Guilt was weighing on him, jabbing at him for messing up and upsetting Dorian. 

Dorian could read him well now, though, and spoke again. “Look at me, amatus... look at my face,” he commanded, Aldred obeying almost immediately. Their eyes locked, Dorian breathing heavily as he took Aldred's hand and laid it against his chest. Aldred could feel Dorian's heart beating heavily within, the thudding of it seeming to pulse down his arm and shock his own into unison. 

He watched, _he felt_ , Dorian raising and lowering on him, felt himself threatening to slip free before Dorian took him in wholly again. He saw as Dorian moved a hand to encompass himself, fingers curling tight and hand pumping in pace with his hips.

Aldred let his hand remain on Dorian's chest, feeling the repetitive beat of it along with the rolling of Dorian's body atop his. Everything seemed to be coming into sync until even his breaths seemed to be shared with Dorian. Aldred stopped thinking at all as he watched Dorian, mind entirely blank but for one repeating sentence: _I love you. I love you. I love you._

Things were culminating then, warmth spreading in his belly and toes curling of their own accord. He jerked beneath Dorian and one of his legs threatened to cramp. He couldn't draw a proper breath anymore, his jaw clenching as his nails dug into Dorian's chest. If he hurt Dorian in any way, the man didn't let on. He only pulled Aldred's hand from his skin to kiss his knuckles and look at Aldred knowingly.

Then he too stilled for a moment, eyes shutting tightly just briefly before lashes fluttered open and he was sighing softly. He bent forward, pressing his nose into the crevice of Aldred's shoulder and throat and whispering softly.

“I know. I love you too,” he said, proving just how much he did know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the long awaited sex scene!
> 
> Chapter updates are now to be on Thursdays as my work schedule got all kinda of flipped around. But hey, it means you get two chapters this week. Lucky you!


	10. Without Yield

It was snowing, big, fat flakes dancing through the air and getting caught up in gusts of wind. It seemed they could never reach the ground, though the occasional defiant one did land only to be sucked into the dirt. Here and there a patch of frozen powder stood out, but otherwise the area was dry.

It was unusual to see Haven so green.

But it wasn't Haven. Not really.

Aldred found himself in the center of the place where his life had truly begun to change, seeing pristine little shacks and dapples of green covering the ground where spring was trying to break through. The buildings all stood in perfect condition, not a single tent or weapons table in sight, and the entire estate was silent but for the wind that occasionally whipped through.

And yet... he was not cold. Not when the snow met his cheeks or when the wind ruffled his hair... no, the only coldness he felt was deep within his stomach as he registered the other oddities of this alternate Haven.

Two hands. 

He had two hands, one at the end of either arm that hung at his side, and he raised both to inspect them curiously. What an odd sensation is was to witness the fingers of his left hand curl before his eyes. Even more curious was to notice the absence of the mark upon his palm. Nothing... just an empty hand baring little more than a few creases in its skin.

Aldred frowned and lowered his hands, head turning towards the shack where he'd awoken after he'd first temporarily sealed the breach. A candle burned in its window, and a sigh loosed from him as he decided to move towards it. The closer he got, the greener the ground beneath him. The little shack seemed isolated from the snow flurries, as though its single candle was enough to burn them away.

Just as he reached its entryway, the door swung inward and a voice beckoned to him softly from inside.

He wasn't at all surprised to find Solas within, the elven man sitting on the edge of the shack's bed and rising as Aldred entered.

“Old friend,” he said in greeting only for Aldred to meet him with a scowl.

“Solas,” Aldred replied stiffly. The little room was empty but for the basics, but Aldred did notice a slip of parchment laying on one table. Its lettering was entirely indecipherable, every bit of it looking smudged and blurred out.

“This is no dream...”

“Yeah, I've guessed as much,” Aldred retorted, eyes turning back to view Solas where he stood. Still a narrow looking man if ever he saw. “What do you want?”

Solas sighed and wrung his hands together, his eyes drifting to the floorboards. “Peace. Closure. I called you friend, and I still do mean it,” he answered. “Please, if you'll only give me a moment?”

Aldred faced him squarely, shoulders rolling back as he watched Solas. “What sort of peace and closure?”

“The apologetic kind. I... our last meeting was not what I'd wished. I did not have time to explain.”

“Oh, I think you explained plenty...” Aldred said slowly.

Solas scoffed and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed again, fingers curling around its edge as he thought. “You do not understand. You _cannot_ understand. It's not your fault.”

“Did you bring me here only to assuage your own feelings of guilt? What do you want from me? Forgiveness?”

“Oh, no!” Solas disagreed quickly. “No, no. I would not waste your time with such an endeavor. It would yield no results.”

“Then why am I here?” 

Solas looked up then, eyes meeting and locking with Aldred's.

“Two things, old friend. I apologize for the trouble I've given you in taking your arm, but I did it to save you. The mark would have killed you otherwise. I did not do it to hurt you,” he explained, though Aldred only rolled his eyes in return. This was not enough to silence Solas, as the man still continued. “Secondly, I must ask you to cease your searching for me. It will do you no good.”

“Cease searching?” Aldred repeated. “And willingly sit by as you move to end our world? Our very existence!?”

Solas shook his head, slender fingers coming to rest in his lap and drum against his thighs lightly. “It isn't your concern. You waste your time,” he spoke, and Aldred laughed sharply.

“How can it not be!? I'm _part_ of that world, am I not!?”

“Oh, my friend... no,” Solas answered, a sympathetic look upon his face as he turned his face towards Aldred. “You have no place in the world. Stop searching, and enjoy the time you still have.”


	11. A Wanted Man

His arm hurt in the morning. Of course it did. 

Aldred laid on his side with his arm outstretched in front of him, filling the space where Dorian would normally lay beside him. He tried to pretend there was a hand at the end of it, fingers curling and uncurling, but all he felt was a dull ache from a bad memory. He wasn't even sure if the pain was real, or if it was just in his head.

The light from the windows told him it was late in the morning. Again. He groaned irritably and shut his eyes against the light. If he was going to consistently sleep through breakfast, it would be nice to at least _feel_ rested afterwards. But, no. Apparently that was simply too much to ask for in a world that seemed designed to make him personally miserable.

He squirmed beneath the blankets, burying himself further in the bedding and pulling the pillows atop him until he felt their weight upon him was sufficient. 

Normally by now he'd at least contemplate getting up, but it just felt pointless. He'd fallen asleep only to awake in Haven. No, not Haven. Haven was gone, even if Solas could bring him into the memories of it in the Fade. 

~*~

_You have no place in the world._

The words echoed in Aldred's mind over the course of the week. Each time he attempted to seat himself and try to puzzle together Solas' location he would find his hand faltering and his mind wandering back to that phrase. It wasn't exactly a sentiment he was unfamiliar with. Aldred had thought the same many times, and the world wasn't exactly eager to prove him wrong.

Well... there was at least _one_ place he could think of that seemed to want him desperately. 

He had spent much time pacing the corridors of Dorian's abode by himself, trying and failing to find some way to distract himself. If he could not find Solas, then what was he to do? If he were in the Circle, he could at least busy himself with copying tomes or some sort of self-flagellation in the name of Andraste. He was almost beginning to wish there were still Red Templars about just so that he might have something or _someone_ to actively combat.

Aldred was beginning to feel restless with all the lazing about he could accomplish in Dorian's quarters. What did free mages even do in their spare time? What did anyone do?

These questions were eventually what lead to the idea of going outside. He'd only gone to the market once with Dorian, but there was no reason he could not go again on his own. Stupidly, he thought that maybe he would enjoy himself more if Dorian was not chattering in his ear. But, staring at a pair of earrings, he had to admit he had no idea how to even enjoy shopping.

He'd never needed to when he was in Ostwick, being that everything he and the other mages had needed had been supplied to them, and shopping as the head of the Inquisition had never been about fun. It had been about survival. The habits formed then made him impulsively buy several Elfroot vials, even though there was no need for them... but it at least had _some_ use.

Unlike the garish baubles he currently stared at. Vivid greens and reds, deep blues and glimmering yellows... the way the gold and silver gleamed in the sun, and how even just the little glass figurines on the vendor's table seemed more valuable than his own life. It was all very pretty. But what point did it serve?

“Anything I can wrap for you, sir?”

Aldred met the eye of the vendor in alarm. How long had he been standing here and staring at these things? He glanced behind him, worried he'd perhaps been in the way of someone who actually meant to buy something today.

“No. No, I apologize. I was just looking,” he answered, though his eyes continued to drift back to a diamond shaped brooch with a very yellow gem embedded in it. It wasn't anything incredible, but it reminded him of the adornments he had once worn as the Inquisitor. 

“Anything in particular catch your eye?”

Aldred felt his cheeks heat a little at the question. Of course they had noticed. “I... that brooch?” he suggested, gesturing towards the brooch.

“Ah! This brooch has a silverite center with gold leaf bordering and a prominent yellow sapphire embedded in its center!” they answered, lifting the brooch from the cushion it had been resting on to present it to Aldred.

Aldred stared at it blankly, unsure if he was supposed to touch it or not. “What does it do?” he asked softly, eyes tracing the facets of the gem as he looked at it.

“What does it do?” the vendor repeated, frowning at Aldred for the odd question. “It adorns the chest! You pin it to your sash or collar or lapel! You make a _statement_ ; here I am! I am _important_!”

Aldred exhaled loudly, brow furrowing further. “Yes, but why? How can it be important when it does nothing?”

Now the vendor laughed, their smile wide as they set the brooch back down. “Not everything needs a function to be valuable. It just has to be liked by someone. Voila! Now it has become valuable!”

“Just for being liked?” Aldred pressed.

“Sentiment is more than half an item's worth,” the vendor said with a sharp nod. “A lost wedding band cannot be replaced with just any old ring, even a more expensive one.”

Aldred chewed on his lip and nodded slowly. Eyes scanning over the table once more, he pointed to a little halla figurine made of pink glass with painted gold eyes and horns. “How much?”

“Inquisitor!”

Aldred turned at the shouting of his former title, recognizing the bark in the voice immediately. Seeing Cassandra marching toward him, a shield on her back and sword at her side as always, was enough to make his stomach begin to flip-flop inside him. He felt dazed at the sight of her, looking as fierce and determined as always as she marched towards him.

“Cassandra?” he asked, as though perhaps she might disagree and vanish as abruptly as she had appeared. This was not to be, for she was at his side in seconds with her jaw set so hard Aldred thought he could hear her teeth grinding beside him.

“Inquisitor?” the vendor echoed, eyes darting between the two of them. “Oh, my! I had no idea-”

Aldred made a face, eyes rolling as the vendor began to stammer and apologize to him. They'd done nothing wrong, and yet now they were begging forgiveness for the act of talking to him! He hated it. He was nobody special. The Chantry had declared it so.

“Please! Have the halla! As an apology!” they offered, wrapping the little figurine in gauze as they spoke and pushing it insistently towards Aldred. Well, now he knew the vendor was not Tevene. They were not the sort of people to grovel and beg forgiveness.

“Cassandra! What are you doing here!?” Aldred hissed, Cassandra accepting the halla from the vendor and shoving him away from the stall. 

“I came to warn you! You should not be out!” she retorted, pushing him along as she passed the wrapped figurine to him. Her hand immediately went to the sword at her side, hazel eyes scanning the marketplace for threats as they made their way through the crowds.

“Why ever not!?” Aldred demanded, trying to slow their pace as he spoke. Any faster and they would be jogging. It didn't seem polite to run through such a crowded place.

“Because it's dangerous!” Cassandra snapped.

Aldred stopped abruptly and planted his feet firmly on the cobbled road beneath them. “How!? This is Tevinter and I'm with Dorian! Who's going to do me harm here!?”

“Do you think this is an asylum!?” Cassandra asked, her voice harsh as she stepped up to Aldred and glared at him. “You are a wanted man all across Thedas! There is no safety for you here or _anywhere_!”


	12. Unthinkable

“So what am I to do!?”

“Aldred, dear, you're shouting again,” Dorian said, voice thick as though he was barely stopping himself from yelling as well.

“I bloody well am!” Aldred retorted. “This is becoming ridiculous! In my sleep, in my wake, in or out of the Circle; I am plagued!”

“I agree; the matter has become severe,” Cassandra interjected. She'd found herself a place within their room, leaning against an immaculate wardrobe with her arms crossed and the deep creases in her forehead reflecting the worry she felt.

“How can they do this!? They have no right! I was under the impression that the Tevinter Imperium was off-limits to the Orlesian Chantry... what does the Imperial Chantry have to say?” Aldred asked, turning towards Dorian. Dorian was wringing his hands together, feet planted squarely on the floor as he sat on the edge of their shared bed. His expression was grim.

“In your time in Ostwick I'm sure you did plenty of studying... it is the belief of the Imperial Divine that your presence within our borders will invoke a fifth Exalted March upon Minrathous. I've no doubt we could withstand it with ease, but... the Imperial Chantry is unwilling,” Dorian admitted with a heavy sigh.

Aldred scoffed in disgust.

“Aldred, really... if you were sleeping with the whole of Tevinter they might care as much as I do. But...” Dorian said, Aldred narrowing his eyes at Dorian in return while Cassandra cleared her throat.

“There must be something that can be done!” Aldred insisted.

“If there is, I don't know of it,” Cassandra spoke lowly. It was the same tone he'd heard her use a hundred times when thinking on a difficult situation. They'd found solutions to the impossible before, and her tone said she would keep looking for one to their current dilemma. “For now, though, others are coming.”

“Others?” Dorian repeated, brow furrowing as he looked towards Cassandra. “What do you mean _others_?”

“Please, Dorian, you do not think I would stand alone against the Chantry. It pains me now to stand against them at all. But, this is wrong, and I'm not the only one who thinks so,” Cassandra answered. She shifted in her stance as she spoke, her hand running along the hilt of the sword at her hip. “I do not know who all will come, but there are a few I know of... Iron Bull. Krem.”

“Is that all?” Aldred asked. If it was, he was disappointed in his former comrades.

“ _Is that all_!?” Dorian asked incredulously, eyes flicking towards Aldred as his lips turned down tightly. “Amatus, we cannot have the entirety of the former Inquisition within our bedroom! Even as much as Iron Bull may fantasize of such debauchery....”

“I meant are these the only friends of mine who would aid me?” Aldred growled. 

“OF COURSE NOT!” boomed a voice as the bedroom door slammed open. The force of it rattled the contents of a nearby bookshelf, Aldred and Dorian both looking surprised as Sera marched in with Dagna in tow. 

Cassandra just looked annoyed by the disruption. “Were you really just standing outside with your ear pressed to the door?” she asked, her expression as unimpressed as her words.

Sera shrugged. “Seemed more fun. Hey Quizzy!” She had her arms around Aldred before he could even speak, her hug turning into a playful tussle as she mussed his hair and laughed. “Did you really think I wouldn't come?”

Aldred smiled and straightened himself out. “I'm sorry.”

“You should be! Last I checked you were still a friend of Red Jenny, and we don't forget our friends that easy. Unlike some snobby magic users....” She grumbled the last bit under her breath, evidently talking about Vivienne. “Anyways, you've got friends. All over. We're gonna fight this and beat its face in just like anything else we've crossed.”

Sera's plain speak was endearing and reassuring for Aldred. She wasn't delicate about the words she chose, and she spoke with such confidence. He'd only seen her shy away from that confidence once, back when Corypheus was still a threat. It was a small moment of fear, but she'd squared her shoulders and raised her chin and it was gone as if it'd never been.

“Sera, whose face exactly do you intend to “beat in”?” Cassandra asked sternly, crossing her arms as she spoke and glared at Sera. That glare had once been cold and harsh and unyielding. Something about it now seemed maternal to Aldred, like she really was only trying to protect Sera.

Sera only shrugged. “Anyone who threatens my friends,” she answered simply.

“Sera...” Dagna interrupted before prompting, “my ideas?”

There was something dark on Sera's face at Dagna's gentle reminder, Sera inhaling deeply and nodding. “Widdle has some possible solutions. I ain't gonna say 'em. Buncha magicky stuff—don't really like it. But... it's more than I got.”

All eyes were on Dagna immediately, each face wearing its own expression of curiosity.

“A magical solution... to the Chantry hunting a _mage_?” Cassandra asked in disbelief.

“Oh! Well, yes!” Dagna agreed before shaking her head quickly. “But, not just any magic! _Blood magic_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay today! Time got away from me! I'm so excited!


	13. Whatever's Necessary

The moment Dagna had mentioned blood magic, all discussion had stopped. There wasn't even an argument; no shouting, no icy words, not a single disagreement to be had. Even firmly set jaws and fiery glares were forgone, each person present simply becoming silent until Dorian suggested everyone go and find some supper while he made sleeping arrangements for the apparent party he was hosting.

Sera didn't need to be asked twice. She was more than willing to leave any discussion of blood magic behind in favor of food, and Dagna only gave a soft smile towards Aldred before leaving with her. Cassandra didn't even offer a typical scoff after their departure, her lips puckering as though she had eaten something sour while she contemplated Dagna's words. She left wordlessly, though Aldred didn't think it was in search of food. It was more likely that she was off to find something to hit....

Dorian and Aldred both seemed to simultaneously release the breaths they'd been holding the moment they were alone again, Aldred sidling over to the bed to sit down beside Dorian.

Dorian slid a hand onto his thigh, squeezing it tightly while Aldred scratched at the scruff on his face.

“Aldre-”

“Blood mag-”

The two both faltered in what they were about to say as they spoke at the same time, pausing to try and let the other continue first.

Dorian laughed, a soft bitter exhale of air, and rubbed a hand over his face. “This is crazy, Aldred... _blood magic_?”

Aldred nodded slowly, teeth digging into his lower lip. “It's funny, by which I mean it's absurd, to think that my worries from years back have come into reality.”

“It is absurd. I never thought it possible. I... I apologize, Aldred. All those times you told me your fears, I don't think I ever felt them truly justified. It just seemed... _impossible_! Impossible to think anyone would ever ask _you_ to return to... I don't—I don't even want to say it.” 

Aldred snorted. “And now they are. And what options have I been provided? Return? Die? Or, now, _blood magic_?” He shook his head, a smile of disbelief on his face as he reclined back on the bed and looked up at the draconic imagery that decorated the ceilings. “Do you remember what I asked you back then?”

Aldred could tell Dorian was rolling his eyes without even seeing his face, Dorian relaxing back beside him and putting a hand on his chest.

“You didn't ask. You _begged_ ,” he corrected, lips brushing against Aldred's hair as he spoke. “'Make me a slave!' you cried. You were so insistent!”

“Not insistent enough,” Aldred disagreed, “I'm still a free man.”

Dorian chuckled. “Hardly; you're a _wanted_ man,” he corrected.

“I can't even fathom what they would want me for. A one-handed mage? What will they do with me?”

“I don't think the order for your capture has anything to do with your usefulness. I think it is a show of power. The people of Thedas lost quite a bit of their faith in the Chantry after the explosion at the conclave and the death of Divine Justinia; even more when, at the end of all of it, you really _weren't_ the Herald of Andraste and instead were just some poor bastard caught up in all of it,” Dorian said, Aldred's lips thinning into a grimace as he spoke. “I think now they just want to see you returned to the Circle to prove they have some control. Imprison the man who survived the conclave, the one who closed the hole in the sky.”

Aldred laughed bitterly. “I always knew there would be consequences one day for being an impostor. I told them I was no great leader, no divine hero sent to save the world, but... ah, no, the herald was always so humble.”

“He still is,” Dorian remarked before pulling himself upright again. The toe of his boot tapped the floor as he thought. “You were a wonderful leader. I was _raised_ to become a Magister, and yet... well, I'd have to say that, even after all my lessons and training, you're still a better leader than I.”

“I only did what was necessary,” Aldred objected, to which Dorian laughed.

“Oh, is that all?” Dorian teased. He shook his head and blew out a breath while rising from the bed, the heels of his boots clicking solidly on the floor as strode about the room. Aldred sat up just for the sake of being able to watch Dorian move as he thought.

Dorian looked back at him after a while, eyes glittering with determination. 

“I'll do the same. For you,” he said firmly. “Whatever's necessary.”

“Whatever's necessary,” Aldred repeated.


	14. A Damaged Thing

Dorian didn't waste time in preparing for the imminent arrival of their guests, though truly the most work he put in was ensuring that anything Iron Bull could possibly run into or break with just a turn of his head was moved well out of the way or stored somewhere safe. Aldred didn't bother to find out where.

Apart from that, Dorian had spent over an hour writing out rules to give each guest who arrived; no spitting, no fighting inside, no “exploring”, no touching the books in the library (without permission), and more. The one he underlined the most was that there was to be no entering of his and Aldred's private quarters without an invitation. He'd scribbled over the same letters again and again until they were scratchy and big and quite threatening.

By the time Varric arrived, Aldred felt like he'd been transported to another place _like_ Dorian's but not _quite_. It was all significantly more bland now. Parts of it also felt like Skyhold, the presence of his former companions only serving to further the daydreams that he had somehow traveled back in time. It was the persistent heat of Tevinter that reminded him otherwise.

That and the vastly different scenery that met him whenever he ventured outside, which wasn't nearly as often as he would have liked. Cassandra wouldn't permit it; not without supervision. She had some sort of fear of an ambush, though Aldred wasn't sure if he felt it was warranted. Thus far the Chantry had only given written warnings and demands of his capture, and he was doubtful they would attempt to steal him off the streets of Minrathous.

Still, it was Varric who accompanied him through the gardens of Dorian's home, arms crossed over his chest and lips set in a pout as he walked beside Aldred. It was uncomfortably silent. Varric liked to talk, but Aldred was a poor conversationalist. Even after three years, he still felt he lacked in experiences that would interest Varric.

“Dorian is being a stuffy twit about the library,” Varric mentioned when Aldred paused to inspect the leaves of large plant. They were big and waxy, but they had been chewed on by a bug of some sort. 

“How so?” Aldred replied softly, fingers trailing down the stalk of the plant and looking for further damage. 

“Cassandra only needed verbal permission, but apparently _I_ need a written permit,” he scoffed. “I am an author! What is the worst I'll do!?”

Aldred shrugged. “Study Tevinter books, incorporate them into your stories, and slowly blacken the minds of Thedas with the perverse customs of Tevinter?” he guessed, to which Varric cracked a smile.

“And has it been perverse? Your stay in Tevinter?” Varric asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked smugly at Aldred.

Aldred reddened and let the plant be, legs moving him forward instinctively as though he intended to escape Varric's questions.

“Well?” Varric pressed, keeping up with ease.

“You'll not gain from me inspiration for your novels,” Aldred replied with a shake of his head. There was a bush blooming big and brightly yellow flowers. Butterflies were enthralled with it, and Aldred was similarly enthralled by them. He moved towards it, cautiously holding his hand near the butterflies in hopes one might land upon his fingers. 

“Ha! You don't think there will be books about you!?” Varric laughed incredulously. “There will be stories of all kind; diaries full of personal accounts, songs to be sung around campfires and during festivals! Legends passed down from parent to child before bed each night!”

A pale winged butterfly caught Aldred's attention, its left wing tattered and near useless as it made pathetic attempts to flit about the bush. He felt bad for it, and sympathetic to it. Though it managed to find itself a flower to drink the nectar from, it struggled and seemed unable to leave the bush itself. He bent the stem of flower nearer to it, wishing to make its task easier. 

“Do you think it is right to let it live?” he asked Varric, eyes never straying from the damaged creature. “Even when it can't do it on its own?”

Varric joined him in watching the butterfly, Aldred missing the concerned expression that passed over his face. “It isn't a failure to need help in this world...”

“Of course. Everyone needs help. But... is it _right_ to let those who cannot help themselves carry on? This creature will surely die soon. It can't escape....” To prove his point, Aldred curled his fingers around the delicate creature and pulled it gently from the flower dappled bush. It bumped around helplessly against the cage of his fingers, confused and certainly afraid. “Would it be better to kill it now, or to allow it to continue to struggle? Is one more cruel than the other?”

“Well, to start with, that's a butterfly,” Varric pointed out. “I don't think it is often plagued by thoughts about its quality of life, but I'm sure it would be happy to just enjoy the flowers until its time comes.”

Aldred nodded solemnly, uncurling his fingers slowly. The butterfly had ceased its terrified beating against his hand, and now sat calmly on his palm even when he tried to place it back upon the petals of a flower.  
He nudged it with his thumb, trying to encourage it to depart and feeling how its tiny feet stuck to his skin.

Varric sighed and carefully took the butterfly from Aldred, setting it down upon a large blossom and letting it resume its usual activities. “But,” Varric said, eyes shifting to Aldred, “I don't think we're talking about the butterfly anymore, if we ever really were.”

There was pity in the man's face, lips drawn into a tight smile and brows furrowed as he watched Aldred. Aldred didn't want pity, so he looked away.

“Not all wounds are visible. Some are near impossible to perceive,” Varric commented. “There are many broken people in this world that are continuing to live... with or without the help of others.”

Aldred didn't mean to scoff at Varric's words, but he found no comfort in them. Varric looked to him for further explanation, and Aldred felt that he could not scoff and then say nothing to defend his own thinking. “I just... it isn't the same.”

“I don't see how it's different.”

Aldred ran his tongue along his teeth, feeling each one and letting their caps scrape over his tongue as he tried to think of how to phrase his thoughts.

“What is it about your needing assistance that you find so wrong?” Varric asked directly, and Aldred stiffened and tried to draw back his shoulders and square his shoulders as though he had no idea what Varric meant.

“I never mentioned myself,” he said stiffly, not missing it when Varric rolled his eyes.

“ _Fine, the butterfly_ ,” Varric corrected. “Why shouldn't the butterfly be given assistance?”

Aldred looked back to the butterfly, bright blue eyes following the shuddering wings of the fragile thing. “Because, it's not just assistance,” Aldred said firmly, bitterness coating his words. “It needs protection too. It doesn't just need help, it's also _helpless_. It can be happy all it wants with its flowers, but what about the birds that will come for it? The ants that will ravage it if it does fall and cannot get back up? It will be torn apart.... Is it fair for others to endanger themselves in pursuance of protecting such a helpless thing?”

Varric frowned and shook his head at Aldred's words, though it was in no way a validation of Aldred's thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of update last Thursday--life got away from me for a moment.  
> We're back on track this week, and there will still be an update this Thursday as well.


	15. Impending

“Has Dagna given you any more clues as to her ideas?” Aldred asked as he sat on the edge of an ornate fountain outside, trailing his fingers through the cool water within.

Dorian was nearby, staff in hand as he inspected the flowering trees that would later bear fruit. It was a muggy day and the air felt charged, all signs of an impending storm. For now, it was warm and sunlight found its way through the gathering clouds above. Dorian was mending the trees, giving strength to the limbs and inspiring new growth just by running his fingers along the branches.

Aldred had never seen magic like that. Everything he knew was meant for destruction, and even much of that he had only learned after the conclave.

“She has spoken little of it to me,” Dorian admitted, using his staff to bend a bough closer to his reach. “I thought she would discuss it further with you.”

“No, she's said nothing to me,” Aldred answered. Thunder rumbled, soft and deep, in the distance. Aldred shifted on the concrete edge of the fountain, pulling one knee to his chest as he stared into the water. “She has been in the library often.”

“Oh? Perhaps I should inquire into what she has been reading... or searching for,” Dorian said. “She may need assistance if she is, as I suspect, trying to further study blood magic.”

Aldred hummed in agreement. “I don't understand how blood magic could help. Or any magic, really,” he confessed.

“Any ideas on what might?” Dorian asked, releasing the branch again. It whipped back up to its proper positioning, a handful of leaves shaking free. The wind from the coming storm shuffled them along the ground near Dorian's feet.

“No. In Skyhold we had so many options. There was Josephine for diplomacy, and Leliana was always excellent in manipulation. Cullen and his templars... warriors... whatever they were called. Always a good show of force to prove our power. Such choices are no longer available to us...” Aldred said sullenly, dipping his fingers into the fountain and making idle conversation while Dorian did real work.

Dorian gave a short and haughty laugh. “I do not think diplomacy will be on our side this time. The more time passes, the more people long for things to go back to as they were. They want to forget any of this ever happened—and they will—and in time they will panic at a new disaster that may have been prevented had they only not forgotten the previous one.”

“Like the Blights?”

“Like the Blights,” Dorian agreed. He set his staff down, leaning it against the trunk of a tree and letting it rest there while he joined Aldred. His shoulder pressed into Aldred's backside, providing Aldred a good support to lean against. Aldred shut his eyes and hummed words of understanding.

“Do you think the chantry is _really_ hunting down mages... or is it just me?” Aldred asked. The sky growled a warning, still far but quickly approaching.

“I could not say,” Dorian replied.

They remained in silence until the rain came, listening to how the birds fell silent and feeling the air grow crisp and cold as the clouds pushed nearer. Fat droplets fell from the heavens, dappling the dry dirt and turning its dust into mud upon impact. Aldred watched the rain drops hit the water of the fountain, splashing up each time and sending ripples out upon its surface. Eventually the ripples were impossible to identify, winds pushing across the water until it looked as treacherous as the sea of the Storm Coast.

Aldred remembered their time there... almost always chilled to the core, clothing soaked through and rocks slippery and damp. He remembered laying in his tent and hearing the rain beat upon it over his head, and he remembered stripping free of his wet garments to curl up beside Dorian and feel his warmth instead. It had been a difficult time, but he was fond of the memories regardless.

They did not stay in the rain long enough for it to thoroughly drench them this time, Dorian grabbing his staff and leading Aldred inside before the storm really hit.

The sky fell dark much earlier than normal, black clouds covering the whole of it. Aldred fell asleep to the sounds of thunder, his cheek against the soft skin of Dorian's bare backside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was updating tags today and realized how ominous some of them sound. Ah well. Makes it all the more fun.


	16. Inexperienced and Nervous

Aldred really hadn't expected Cullen to show up before Bull. He hadn't really expected Cullen to show up at all, to be honest, but there he was. It was unnerving to see the man without the ruffled fur cloak about his shoulders, the Templar insignia entirely absent from his garb nowadays. He also seemed younger, a pink tint to his skin and his deep blue eyes brighter than Aldred had ever seen them before. 

He smiled and laughed a lot, a throaty laugh that was full and warm and bubbled up and out of his lips in spite of all the fearful things they had to discuss.

Even seeing this, Aldred still feared the man. It didn't seem to matter how close they had worked together, or how he had found himself standing on the battlements of Skyhold giving advice to Cullen on a night where their noses were raw and their fingers burned from the cold... Aldred could never seem to shake his wariness of Cullen Rutherford.

He didn't mean to avoid him, but his stomach churned whenever they were alone. And _not_ in the pleasant way as it had done with Dorian when they'd first begun their flirtations.

Dorian....

Dorian didn't mind Cullen's presence at all, even being as bold as to tease the ex-Templar. It was strange to hear Cullen growl out playful and empty warnings for the teasing, and Aldred felt a sullen ache within his chest as he listened to the others laugh and tell stories over supper. This was just like before, when they'd all been heroes... when _he'd_ been a hero. He had never really participated in the fun then either.

They all thought him a stoic character more intent upon working and learning.

_... at this rate, you're almost a Tranquil._

The words pierced at the back of his mind, a painful memory throbbing insistently within his thoughts. Had he gotten any better since then? No. Even now, free from the Inquisition and the Circle, he still attempted to bury himself in work. Search for Solas. Can't find Solas? Research Fenharel. Nothing left to learn of Fenharel? Study a new topic; study plants, study magic, study history. Read then write, then read again, and write some more. 

Aldred didn't know what else to do with himself. He recalled once being asked by Varric to join a game of Wicked Grace with the others. He'd turned the offer down, and later heard stories about the evening from others. It sounded like it had been fun, but he doubted it would have or could have been if he had been present.

His inexperience and nervousness would only have served to make the others uncomfortable, and it was important that they had been able to relax back then.

“You're awfully deep in thought,” Dorian remarked.

He'd come into their chambers some time ago and had been digging through their wardrobe, throwing garment after garment onto the bed until their was a decent pile of clothing there. Aldred had paid him no mind, absently doodling on a piece of paper the butterfly he had seen the other day.

Aldred shrugged and hummed in disagreement.

“What's on your mind?” Dorian asked, now sorting the clothing he'd thrown all over the bed. Aldred couldn't fathom a guess as to what his organization methods were. It really just looked like he was making a mess.

“It sounds vain to say,” Aldred answered. “Myself.”

“Oh? I think about you quite a great deal as well. You're a good thought to think upon,” Dorian replied. He lifted a coat from the bed, holding it out in front of himself and scrutinizing it before throwing it on the floor.

Aldred rolled his eyes, but Dorian's comment still brought an involuntary smile to his lips. 

“Truly, though, what is it that has you so deep in contemplation?” Dorian asked, chucking a pair of pants to the floor as well.

Aldred huffed and sat back in his chair, his quill still pinched between his fingers. He fussed with it a bit before speaking, “I'm not very fun, am I?”

Dorian was surprisingly silent for a moment before he barked out a laugh, all his pretty little teeth revealed as he smiled. “Oh, you dear fool,” he said, tossing a few more items of clothing onto the floor and draping several more over the back of a nearby chair. “Of course you're good fun. Perhaps not for everyone, but I personally find you a delightful distraction and ever so amusing.”

Aldred's lips pressed into a thin line. “But that's only you,” he pointed out.

“Amatus! Don't tell me there is another you would like to impress!” Dorian teased. He balled up a pair of pants and threw them into a corner where they were soon joined by a tunic, a pair of stockings, and what looked like a sort of undergarment but Aldred could not quite be sure. “Really, though, my dear... who cares if you are fun? You are an individual. A multi-faceted person with many qualities to attract others.”

“Like?” Aldred asking, setting down his quill and scratching his chin as he watched Dorian. What was the man doing? There was clothing everywhere!

“You're easily attractive,” Dorian answered. “Tall, sturdy and muscular. Beautifully blue eyes and brilliant hair... a good ass. Love the ass,” Dorian assured him with a laugh. He sorted out a few more items from the pile of clothing on the bed, throwing them wherever he deigned appropriate as he did. “You're also very smart, and thoughtful. You have a lot of care for others. It's very endearing. One of the first things that attracted me to you was your desire to help; to help people who had hurt you, even.”

Aldred nodded his head to show he was listening, even if he was unsure he agreed. “I don't know if it was desire or training... I was a Circle mage. You know we are taught our lives belong to whatever cause we are given by the Chantry.”

Dorian scoffed. “If you didn't desire to help others, you would not have gone so far out of your way so often. You would not have come with me to see my father so many years ago. You would not have brought medicine to those who needed it, or given words of comfort to those around you. You care, and I will not hear another word saying you don't.”

Aldred smiled a little and shifted in his chair. “What is the purpose of this mess you are making?” he asked, gesturing to the clothing Dorian had strewn about their room.

“Ah!” Dorian exclaimed, pointing to each pile as he spoke. “Donate, mend, burn.”


	17. Those in Support

Bull's arrival was as raucous as predicted because it wasn't _just_ Bull. It was never _just_ Bull, but rather always Bull _and the Chargers_. They were always at his side, always ready to go; his own personal harem of warriors, and it _was_ a harem regardless of whether they slept together or not simply because of how often the topic of sex seemed to be on their tongues. 

Dorian was prepared, however, and Aldred was grateful as he felt like he could never gather himself for just how much Bull and his Chargers could be. How loud, how hungry, how drunk, how absolutely underfoot everywhere you went—there was simply no getting used to it for him. The Iron Bull was a good leader though, and he could keep his rag tag group of mercenaries under control when needed. Right now, however, he evidently didn't feel it was needed.

“I wish we had Josephine,” Aldred groaned as he walked beside Dorian through one of the long hallways that bordered the estate.

“I agree, she was a genius in hospitality. It didn't matter what sort of person turned up on the steps of Skyhold, she knew how to keep them at peace,” Dorian replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he talked and kept Aldred's company.

“I don't know how she managed it! I swear... I _know_ Bull and his group can be a tad loud, but I just feel like my memories of them in Skyhold are not nearly as strong as they ought to be!”

“I doubt theirs are either; they spent the majority of their free time getting drunk in The Herald's Rest,” Dorian reminded him, sniffing sharply. “Don't think I'll be building a pub in my home anytime soon, though! Disgraceful!”

Aldred laughed and nodded. “I suppose that's why I've forgotten much of their presence... I rarely visited the tavern.”

“Ah, though you probably needed it more than any of us,” Dorian commented, Aldred waving a hand dismissively at him and shaking his head.

“AND _ANOTHER_ THING!”

The shouted words were enough to startle both Aldred and Dorian, the two of them stopping in their tracks as they saw Skinner chasing after and hollering at a very put-out looking Grim. They didn't catch anything else of the conversation, Grim slipping through a doorway and Skinner's words devolving into echoing complaints that couldn't be deciphered as she followed him.

Dorian looked at Aldred slowly, Aldred sighing.

“Two coins says they've gone to bed together more than once,” Dorian remarked.

“Two coins says they're on their way there now,” Aldred replied, eyes looking down the hall towards the doorway where they'd vanished.

~*~

“-and that was when Krem burst in, eyes bulging out of their sockets when he saw all that I had to _offer_!” Bull laughed loudly, his palm smacking against the table as he told his stories.

“Psh! Not nearly as much as he'd have you think—the horns are more impressive,” Krem scoffed, earning him an uproar of laughter from the others seated at the table.

Aldred had a hold of Dorian's hand beneath the table, his thumb nervously rubbing circles into Dorian's palm. This was it. This was all of them. All those who felt he needed their aid and support... those who could make it, anyways.

Cassandra... Sara and Dagna. Varric, and even Cullen? The Iron Bull and his Chargers, all five of them taking their cues from their boss and filling the estate with liveliness. 

There had been word from others too. A courteous messenger with a letter from Josephine. A _second_ letter, rather. Aldred had missed it in his fear and panic, but the letter that had come to warn him of the Chantry's new mission had of course been penned by none other than her. He was grateful to receive the second letter, Josephine apologizing for her inability to be there but assuring him she was on his side.

Another letter arrived, this one brought by a raven that was almost beastly in size; a letter from Leliana. Her support was given as well, and that did much to steady Aldred's heart and calm some of the worries within him. 

He heard nothing from Blackwall, though he didn't see that as much of a surprise. When he'd first found _Thom_ he'd been isolating himself and trying to stay far from the eyes of those who might search for him. It wasn't surprising that he'd returned to his former hermetic lifestyle, though it did hurt a bit. Aldred had felt a sort of kindrance with Thom that the others could never have shared... that same feeling of being an impostor and a let-down to others. Though, Thom really _was_ an impostor... but Aldred forgave him for it.

Perhaps, he thought, the others would forgive him too when they realized he was a fake as well.

“Dagna says she found something,” Dorian said as he leaned towards Aldred to whisper in his ear.

“Oh?”

“Yes. She said she prepared something of a demonstration for us all later, in order to explain and manage any questions that we may have.”

“A demonstration? Of blood magic? But she's a-”

“-a Dwarf, I know,” Dorian answered, squeezing Aldred's hand beneath the table. “I have no idea what she plans to show us. But, until then, you ought to eat... you've hardly touched your food.”

Aldred's eyes flicked to the plate before him and then the plates of others. Bull was already in the process of serving himself another plate and he and Cullen were fighting over a roll they'd both spotted at the same time. Sara was on what was probably her fifth glass of wine, both she and Dalish appearing to be having a competition of could get drunk the fastest tonight.

Little did they know Dorian had taken measures against such behavior, and it would take several more watered down bottles of wine before they really started to feel it.

“I like holding your hand more than eating,” Aldred said to Dorian, giving him a lopsided smirk before Dorian forcefully pulled his hand loose and directed him to eat once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does it feel like a month has gone by since an update? How odd.


	18. Taboo Customs

Every courtyard bench was occupied, Aldred sitting with one knee drawn up to his chin and watching the others shift restlessly where they sat. Dorian was standing behind him, arms crossed as he waited to see what Dagna had to offer. The air felt charged, like another storm was coming, and everyone seemed nervous and on edge.

 _Blood magic_... the words had been whispered around the estate for several days now and not a single person present was unaware of its meaning. Opinions had been largely kept and restricted, everyone holding their tongues in hope that maybe, _just maybe_ , it would be somehow different in this instance. Perhaps they would somehow find the one occasion when its usage was... agreeable.

Aldred hummed when Dorian put a hand on his shoulder, Dorian's fingers curling into and rubbing his tense muscles. 

“Scared?” Dorian asked quietly, so as not to be heard by the others as they too talked quietly to one another.

“Uncertain... about all of it, right?” Aldred answered, scooting to the edge of the bench to allow Dorian to sit beside him.

Dorian nodded in agreement, eyes wandering over those who had come to offer their support and aide to Aldred. Sara had a full bottle of wine gripped by the neck, and this time it _wasn't_ watered down. 

“What if Dagna's idea is... well, unusable?” Aldred asked, allowing Dorian to take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

“Then we'll find another way. I believe I once made you a promise to kill anyone who came after you,” Dorian said, his expression grim even as he tried to offer a smile in Aldred's direction. “Don't worry. We have Cassandra and Cullen... and Iron Bull and his Chargers? They could fight off the worst of Chantry ordained Templar swarms, and then we'd run away. Sara would teach us the ways of Red Jenny and we'd become like ghosts...”

“Poltergeists, you mean, the way Red Jenny enjoys a good prank...” Aldred corrected. 

Dorian's lips opened to make some sort of smart reply to Aldred, but Dagna's entrance into the courtyard kept him quiet and the others soon fell silent too.

“Hi! Greetings, yes! Hello!” Dagna said pleasantly, addressing each person of their little rebel gathering as she walked before the fountain. She was towing something behind her, a cloth draped over it and wheels clattering noisily as it rolled through the courtyard. She brought it directly before the fountain, re-positioning it several times and looking at it to ensure it was exactly as she wanted and that everyone had a clear view.

“Welcome, friends,” she greeted again, turning to face her small audience and flashing them a smile. Aldred saw her eyes flick towards Sara, and Sara made an encouraging, albeit lewd, gesture back at her. He felt his cheeks flush to see such a display.

He and Dorian were public nowadays, but their affections did not leave the bedroom in any way. Sara though... and Bull. They were show-offs. Aldred had to stop and shake his head free of a daydream in which Dorian would so daringly grab his ass in public the way Bull or Sara might with their own lovers. He needed to pay attention... Dagna was talking....

“... and that is what makes a phylactery so useful to the Chantry!” Dagna said, Aldred involuntarily tightening his grip on Dorian's hand at the word. “So that is a brief history of the usage of blood magic in the past as well as in our current times. But, of course we all know that it has long been the practice of Tevinter mages to learn the basics of this forbidden school of magic and to use it in extraordinary ways never seen in other parts of Thedas!”

“... people are looking,” Dorian murmured to Aldred, and Aldred noticed Dorian was right; the others were trying and failing to be subtle as they looked towards Dorian, each of their thoughts painfully loud. _Dorian can perform blood magic_.... Was it awe or disgust they felt? Could they judge him now when this could be their best hope at keeping Aldred a free man?

“I've spent hours since arriving pouring over the books available to me to learn what I could... and I found something!” Dagna announced, her hands grabbing onto the cloth and whipping it off her hidden surprise in one smooth motion.

Dagna did not receive the impressed or shocked reaction she was looking for, instead being met with blank stares from all who were present as they looked upon... well, no one was really sure what it was. A poorly made coat rack, perhaps?

“Guys! C'mon!” Dagna urged, practically dancing around the thing she had brought out on a little cart she'd built herself.

“Um... beg pardon, but _what is it_?” Cassandra asked, Aldred grateful it was she who'd taken the initiative.

“It's a _staff_!” Dagna answered giddily.  
Dorian made a face. “A staff? I've never seen any like it...” he remarked, rising from his seat to go and look closer. Aldred followed after him, though the others stayed seated. A staff was of no use to any of them, even one as peculiar as this.

It was tall, it's body wrought from iron rather than the comfortable, malleable wood Aldred was used to. Four spokes jutted out from just below its head, each twisting upwards at a ninety-degree angle and making it look more like some sort of weapon of impalement rather than a staff. It was unusually threatening. At its head was a clear orb embedded deep into a silver metal, the metal oddly designed to look as though it were still molten and in danger of dripping on anyone who might hold the staff.

Even stranger still, Aldred could see that the iron body of it had been braided and that there was a thin trail of glass curving around its body, looping through the braids and winding dizzily about the staff itself. 

“It's...” he began.

“Ugly!” Sara suggested, cutting off any thoughts Aldred might have expressed about it.

Dagna shot a glare towards Sara, her hands waving for Aldred and Dorian to retake their seats and let her finish her explanation.

“It's more than a staff, though,” Dagna continued, her eyes looking towards the thing (which was, as Sara said, rather hideous) with a sort of appreciation for it. “It's a phylactery... bigger than any I've ever seen!”

Aldred paled at the announcement, glad he'd sat down just in time. Dorian must've noticed, his hand pressing against Aldred's backside to stabilize him and assure him that he was not alone. Now the little glass orb and the chambers throughout the staff made sense to Aldred... they were empty. They needed blood. 

“The answer to Aldred's dilemma has been right under our noses the entire time! It's the same thing that puts him in danger now; the Chantry has his blood! They can use it to hunt him... and even _harm_ him if need be,” Dagna said, chattering away and paying no mind to Aldred's continuously paling complexion. “However... _this thing_? It's bigger! It's badder! It's got the power to kick their ass!”

“Dagna, I don't mean to interrupt...” Bull grumbled, his familiar gravelly tone low but still very clear in the courtyard, “but, what would we do with it? Bleed Aldred dry?”

“Bull!” Dorian hissed. 

“Nothing of the sort!” Dagna disagreed quickly. “No, no. I found this 'phyla-staff', if you will, depicted in a book regarding blood magic and another, um, shall we say _taboo_ Tevinter customs.”

Bull's eyebrow arched remarkably high and Cullen sat forward on the edge of his seat. Cassandra's face wore its usual mask of determination and bitterness, and Sara looked like she was trying her best to be not present while still being present by taking deep drinks from her stolen wine bottle.

“That being...?” Bull prompted, and Dagna replied just as swiftly.

“Slavery!”


	19. Possession

It was unclear who had stood up faster: Krem or Aldred.

Both had jumped to their feet at the mention of slavery, Krem's eyes hard and angry while Aldred was fighting to keep his expression neutral.

Slavery? Honestly?

How could it be... how could it possibly be!? 

Krem turned heel and left, the Iron Bull rising from his seat to chase after him. But... Aldred couldn't care about that now. He needed to know more!

“Dagna!” Aldred urged, motioning for her to continue her explanation. “Slavery?”

Her eyes followed after Krem and Bull, but she cleared her throat and ran her hand down the unusual handle of the staff; almost as though she were reassuring herself that it was still present, even if two of her audience members were not.

“Ah, yes! The Chantry uses phylacteries to, in a sense, enslave mages. They take the blood of the mage and keep it on hand, the mage knowing all the while that their blood is in the Chantry's possession. It is like a... um... like...”

“Blackmail!” Sara helpfully blurted out.

“Well, no... but yes,” Dagna replied. “They can use it to ensure that the mage does not run away, as it can be used to find them again... and they can use it to cast small spells upon the mage in question. As I'm not a mage myself, I am unsure what sort of spells might be used.”

“Unpleasant ones,” Dorian offered, arms folded over his chest as he looked up from under anxiously furrowed brows. His eyes were on the staff, the heel of his boot bouncing restlessly beneath the bench. “So, what would this... blood magic and slavery combo provide us?”

“Ah! Possession!” Dagna exclaimed. “This is much _much_ more powerful than any phylactery the Chantry has ever had. This had a special usage... it wasn't _just_ about slavery; it was about _ownership_. The amount of blood the phyla-staff requires is... well... it's a lot, let's just say that. But! It provides the staff owner, which would be _you_ , Dorian, complete control and ownership over the blood owner. Which would be Aldred.”

“I'll do it!” Aldred abruptly blurted out. He hadn't even really been listening. If he had been, he might have been more concerned about the blood part of things. But... he was just too eager to be free of the Chantry and was ready to agree without even truly understanding the solution at hand.

Everyone shifted in their seats to look towards him, faces full of concern and surprise at how quick he was to agree to this.

“Amatus, _please_ ,” Dorian scoffed, tugging on his hand and urging him to take his seat again. “Don't be hasty!”

“I agree with Dorian. This is... dangerous. It needs more thought,” Cassandra said, Cullen nodding at her statement as well. 

“It's _wrong_ ,” Sara input, shaking her half drained bottle of wine at Aldred. “People ain't possessions.”

Aldred could feel his face growing hot, though it wasn't embarrassment that flushed his cheeks but rather resent. They didn't understand. They couldn't possibly!

Dagna was fidgeting near the phyla-staff, picking at her nails as she waited for her chance to continue. When no one said another word, she spoke up again. “Um... so my research on the phyla-staff lead me to the conclusion that its usage was to bind a person to another with the express purpose of making the, uh, blood donor, impossible to retrieve. Such as in the case of an arranged marriage or even a stolen bride.”

Dorian made a loud noise of disbelief, and Aldred felt himself wanting to launch out of his seat again.

“How _barbaric_ ,” Cassandra murmured.

“Forced unions? Really, Dorian?” Cullen asked, grimacing as he looked at the phyla-staff.

“Don't make accusations, Rutherford,” Dorian warned. “I've never heard of such a thing, I can only assume it's of an ancient and long forgotten time.”

“Well, see, don't think of it as a forced union! Think instead about run away lovers who needed a guaranteed way to ensure no one could separate them. It's _very_ romantic,” Dagna insisted, clasping her hands together beneath her chin. Her words sounded slightly dreamy as she thought about it.

“Guaranteed?” Aldred pressed, feeling more and more eager and on board with the idea of it by the second.

“Yes! The amount of blood the phyla-staff requires is, like I said, considerably more than the phylacteries of the Chantry. Instead of just simple spells, Dorian could attune to your blood and use it to control you. He could lend his own power to you in the process, or borrow yours alternatively. You'd both be much stronger! Additionally, and this is the good part... he could summon you to him at any given time. It'd be _impossible_ for the Chantry to take you!”

Aldred looked towards Dorian hopefully. “I really can't say I am uninterested in the idea,” he said, speaking clearly so the other could hear him. “I'm simply not seeing any downsides.”

“No downsides!?” Cassandra repeated incredulously. “Dorian would have control over your very being!”

“... and?” Aldred asked.

“Well- I-!” she sputtered, Dorian watching her and waiting for her to give an explanation.

“Well, he could use your body to go on a murderous magical rampage for starters...” Cullen suggested. He received a well deserved glare from Dorian for it.

“That's not going to happen! I trust Dorian,” Aldred argued.

“Well, what if your relationship with Dorian sours?” Sara asked.

“Lovely. Thank you for that, Sara,” Dorian huffed, rubbing his temples as he spoke. “I haven't even agreed to this and already you all think I'm the villain here! Besides, we don't even _know_ how it works yet!”

A silence fell over the group, each person looking equally sheepish for the words they'd said.

“Don'tcha just... fill it with Aldred's blood?” Sara asked.

“No!”

“No.”

Both Dorian and Dagna had spoken at the same time, Dagna shrugging and letting Dorian take the lead.

“It's blood magic. It's not as simple as just putting Aldred's blood in a glass vial or what have you. There's rituals and words and just _things_ that have to be done. And none of it is pleasant. It's not like taking a piss or spitting on the ground—blood doesn't exactly leave the body willingly! And who knows what sort of monstrous ritual this _thing_ will require!? How badly it might hurt Aldred? How badly _I_ might hurt Aldred!?”

Dorian's voice had been steadily rising in volume and pitch as he spoke, voice becoming hard as his throat tightened and he bit his lip to stop it from trembling. Aldred hadn't realized just how deeply upset Dorian had become, but now he was seeing it and a wave of guilt was pulling him under. He'd done this.

He wasn't thinking about Dorian. He wasn't thinking about anyone but himself....

“I know how it works,” Dagna mentioned, Sara groaning loudly. 

“Not now, Dagna. Just... put it away. Wherever you found it, put it back,” Dorian sighed, rising from his seat as he spoke. “I need to think.”

Aldred couldn't meet Dorian's eye when Dorian left. No one could. All talking had ceased, leaving those who remained to shuffle back to their sleeping quarters in silence while thinking heavily upon Dagna's solution.


	20. Chapter 20

Aldred was grateful for Dorian's decision to alter his dress style. The sleeve that covered his left arm had helped him quite a bit, allowing him to slowly accept the alteration of his body. When it was cloaked in its black sleeve, it's appearance in the mirror did not seem so... painful. He felt as though those who saw him truly saw _him_ again and not his disability. 

But... removing it... that was difficult still. That was when the scar stood out, a permanently thick, puckered pink line adorning his skin. But, it had to come off sometimes. It was off now, if only so Aldred could bathe in the springs without destroying it.

His head lolled back against the cobbled edge of the pool, enjoying its warmth early in the morning when the Tevinter heat had yet to set in. It was going to be a sunny day, but there did not seem to be the usual humidity in the air. Not yet, at least. He heard the call of a kestrel from somewhere in the trees, eyes opening into thin lines.

A small lizard lay on one of the nearby rocks, sunning itself and trying to find the warmth the early sun promised to bring. He wasn't surprised when the kestrel came swooping down, lizard snatched from the rock and both gone within a matter of seconds. Closing his eyes again, he thought about the doomed lizard... leave yourself open to your predators....

Footsteps and the splashing of water, and Aldred's eyes snapped open again. This time he _was_ surprised.

Surprised to see Cullen sinking into the water and sighing happily as he situated himself in the spring. “How do you do, Aldred?” Cullen asked, the corners of his lips upturning in a gentle smile. 

Aldred's eyes narrowed at Cullen. He didn't like this... didn't like it one bit. Alone and exposed near an ex-Templar... especially one like Cullen? “I'm... fine...” he replied, trying not to sound too stiff in his response. “Yourself?”

“Very well... Tevinter is an interesting place,” Cullen hummed, Aldred trying not to stare too hard at the scars that decorated Cullen's entire body.

“Yes, it is,” Aldred agreed. He really couldn't help himself, eyes scanning over the whole of Cullen that was visible and wondering about each injury. Some scars were raised, and others seemed to run like cracks through Cullen's skin. “Um... Cullen?” he dared to ask.

Cullen's blue eyes met his own. “Yes?”

“Do... do your scars bother you? Ever?” Aldred asked.

Cullen laughed, his laugh sounding almost like a cough before he cleared his throat and offered Aldred a smile that showed his teeth. “Does yours?” he redirected.

Aldred frowned. “Yes,” he decided to admit, sinking a bit further into the spring water as he spoke just to hide his arm. 

“I see. It can take some time to adapt... to feel like yourself again,” Cullen said, shutting his eyes and relaxing as he spoke. “And that's just the mental affect. What about when they're itchy? That's the worst... hm?”

Aldred laughed nervously and agreed. “Do you feel like yourself again?” 

“Sometimes. On some days, only when I'm armed to the teeth and no one can see anyways...” Cullen answered. He spoke slowly, every bit of him appearing relaxed to Aldred. “Other days, when the weather is nice and all is quiet and well and I can pretend the past never happened.”

“Oh... so, only when it's _like_ it has never happened?” Aldred said, disappointment coating his words.

“Yes. But, that's just me. And I haven't truly lost anything, I don't think... my scars are just scars... perhaps you ought to talk to Bull about this,” Cullen suggested, lazily watching Aldred with one eye. “He has lost an eye, after all... and a few fingers.”

Aldred nodded. “Perhaps...” he echoed. Maybe Bull would be a better person to talk to. Aldred certainly was more comfortable around him than he was with Cullen....

Cullen shifted in the water, sending ripples through the pool as he moved closer towards Aldred. Aldred tried not to allude to the fact that he was tense, but he couldn't seem to relax his jaw. “Aldred... I just want to say, I'm sorry about yesterday. I hope Dorian knows I... _we_ , all of us, were not trying to offend. It's...”

“You're not mages,” Aldred interrupted.

Cullen sighed. “Yeah... yeah, we're not,” he conceded.

“You were just falling into the ideologies you were raised with. It's... well, I won't lie. It does hurt. But, it's not your fault,” Aldred said, unsure of why he was trying to comfort Cullen when it was he and Dorian who had been put down.

“I'll work harder. We all will. I confess, I did not face much stigma in my younger years... but, now, I am beginning to feel its impact,” Cullen said softly. “It doesn't feel good. I can't imagine what it must've been like to grow up surrounded by it.”

Aldred made a face, a quiet anger beginning to form inside of him. “Of course, I'm sure you can imagine what it is like to perpetuate it...” he said bitterly, his words quiet but still very audible between the two of them. 

Cullen's face dropped, Aldred clearing his throat and looking away.

“I'm... sorry,” he began, Cullen raising a hand to stop him.

“Don't be,” he said firmly. “You've every right to be upset with me... with who I was and what I stood for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh... got distracted and forgot yesterday was Thursday.


End file.
